Begonias: A Pokemon Fanfiction
by MasterKnight2142
Summary: Fear: a primal instinct all have. Some know to control it. But for most - it leads to a self-sacrifice of free-will and morals. And in a city of dystopia, prejudice, enslavement, persecution, corruption, and a hand-full of walls protecting inhabitants from the outside world, all eyes begin to wonder if it's only a set of words to say, "It's worse outside the walls than in."
1. Chapter I: A Simple Withdrawal

(A/N)

Link to Google Docs Version (document/d/1TMkZsapB7yhMWTjkseanKNfFslGa2_p0aI7WLrH3QI8/edit?usp=sharing)

(Content Warning)

Profanity: **Yes**

Sexual Content: **No Explicitly Sexual Content**

Gore: **No**

Writing Style: Italicized sentences are internal thoughts.

Sit back, relax, and enjoy the read!

* * *

**Begonias**

A Pokemon Fanfiction

Chapter I

A Simple Withdrawal

* * *

The air was as stagnant and devoid of as much moisture as it had ever been. The cobblestone road was hot, but not enough to burn the bottoms of the flareon's paws. No, instead, it brought a warmth to his body. As he walked down the pavement, he watched the quaint houses and waved to the pokemon who bathed in the sun whilst laying in the grass. And if they happened to notice him, he would pull on the strap to his brand-new satchel – made from orange, polished leavanny leaves and sewn together from their soft silk.

It was something of the latest fashion for the Fire District. Everyone seemed to want it, but they were seasonal and hard to come by. Luckily for him, his wife had bought it months ahead of time. All he had to do was wait for it to arrive in the mail.

Walking with the satchel hanging from his shoulder made him giddy: like he was a model who should be watched in all his splendor.

Passing fire pokemon would stop in their tracks, each smiling and waving at him as they clutched their own leaved bags: theirs being unique and beautiful in their own way, but nothing like his.

Some would ask about where he was headed to, or if he was off for work today: never about the bag, but he could feel their eyes would always drift down to view it with a cheerful, yet envious look to them. And it only brought more joy to him.

And why shouldn't they take envy in this bag? And why shouldn't he take joy in their envy? Life was good to him! It gave him a great job that paid a lot of money: money he used on luxuries. And he fought to keep it that way. So, why he shouldn't he enjoy the splendid feeling of making others long for his life?

As he strode down the street, he passed by the brand-new park that the Council had put in. Children were laughing and chasing each other around slides, monkey-bars, and tables. Each were grinning from ear-to-ear as parents conversed with one another from benches nearby.

He thought about how that would be him in a few weeks' time: sitting on a bench with his wife by his side. He imagined the pink bassinette where his baby would lie as they all enjoyed the sun's warmth. Thinking about such things gave him a warm smile.

"Luis!" a friendly voice hollered from the Flareon's side.

Luis turned to see the long, familiar face of his friend Max who he gave a smile before walking to greet him with a firm shake of the paw.

"It's been too long," Luis said, running his eyes across the heatmor's neck to see a pink, gleaming scarf with heart-shaped patterns wrapped around his neck. "Meet anyone last night?" he asked, gesturing to the scarf.

"Nah, I just like the pink," Max joked.

Luis chuckled aloud. It had been ages since they'd seen one another: maybe a month, now.

"We should get together sometime," the flareon said hopefully. "Say, next week?"

"I'd love to," Max said. "But me and my old lady just picked up a fresh G. T. and it isn't in any condition to be brought in the house. Gotta break it in first, wear it out a little, then put it to work, you know?"

Luis nodded, remembering the first time he'd bought one. "They're nightmares to start out with used, but yours is new?"

"It just needs to be house-broken, first," Max replied, rotating his arm. "Trust me: my dad used to work on them **all** the time when I was younger. He taught me how it works, and it hasn't let me down, yet."

"Well, good luck with that," Luis said. He sighed, looking down the street with a pensive look. "Well, I've gotta go to the bank before work, and I'm not looking forwards to it."

"But that road leads to the Center…" Max had a look of realization dawn on his face as he slowly nodded. "Oh. So, lightning did hit our bank did, and it wasn't just a rumor."

"Hence… why I'm going to the Center," Luis said slowly. He shuddered thinking about it as if it would shake his worries from his back. He then donned a cheery smile.

Just before Luis turned to leave, Max spoke up with, "Be careful out there today, huh? I heard something happened over in the Psychic District a few weeks back: something about a group of thugs kicking the crap out of pokemon at a bar."

"I'll keep it in mind," Luis said dismissively, trying to ignore the warning.

"I mean, I get that each of the fifteen districts have their part to play in keeping the city together, but damn it all to hell that most of them are meat grinders of hate and discrimination against us! I mean, one step and-"

"Alright, Max!" Luis yelled over the heatmor, rage and worry overtaking his face.

He had heard all the stories about the other districts before: "Fire-Types Murdered in the Ground District over Discrimination;" "Flying District Deemed Too Dangerous for Ice-Types to Enter;" "Child of Age Eight Taken from Parents during Family Trip to the Center." He knew there was danger out there, and he didn't need Max reminding him.

Luis felt the eyes of the other pokemon on the street turn towards him: the children who had stopped playing to see what was going on. Max even looked shocked about the sudden outburst.

Luis cleared his throat before regaining his composure. He spoke slowly with, "I appreciate the concern, but I'll be fine. It's a short trip, anyway."

As he turned from Max, he gave one final smile and a wave of his paw before making his way down the street towards a white, stone wall, leaving his friend in a state of worry and confusion.

* * *

It was a tall wall that wrapped itself around the Fire District. There was only one entrance and exit to their sanctuary, and it was through a building imbedded in the side of the wall: the same building Luis made towards.

Getting out of the checkpoint was simple enough. All he did was walk towards one of the glass exit gates situated at the back of the building, pull his card out from his satchel, and insert it into a hole in the wall. Then, with a whir from the wall, the glass doors opened into the other side of the wall.

They called this place The Center, but Luis thought it was more of a dump than anything. The government did its best to maintain the area – keep it as a place of meeting between types to lessen segregation – but that meant strict rules and Steel Enforcers constantly patrolling the streets: something Luis couldn't live with had this been his home. The thought of a bunch of steel pokemon walking around, enforcing their will upon anyone they deemed "delinquent" was one thing no fire-type could stand.

No, to Luis, the Center was merely an inconvenient stop: a culmination of tragic lives and stories shared by pokemon who weren't as lucky as he was. And that luck would hold through today. He wouldn't be here long. He was going to be fine.

From that point onwards, it was a pretty straight shot across the street towards the big, white building with the imprint of a Persian plastered to the wall above glass doors. Below the imprint sat the glistening, golden letters which wrote out: "Persian's Personal Bank."

As the Flareon walked down the street, he felt the chill of the wall which bathed the dirt road with shadows and cold. The air smelled and tasted like old sweat and feet while the walls looked grungy: like they hadn't been cleaned in months. He became very aware of the alleys which rested between buildings that rose five-stories up on all sides. He told himself that they were stable places of work for the pokemon that wanted to better their lives like him. _This is only a stop before heading back into the district,_ he thought.

Then he noticed the six, intimidating, Steel-type pokemon guarding the street whilst lurking around the front of the bank. A couple of them paced between the Fire district's entrance and the bank, watching ahead for anything out of the ordinary. It soothed the Flareon to see them, knowing the Steel Enforcers were there to ward off anybody asinine enough to attack. Not that that meant The Enforcers could do so in the Fire District.

* * *

When he arrived at the bank, walked through the doors to the greeting of a friendly "Welcome!" and pokemon of all different types who sat in chairs, waiting for their turn in line.

His eyes set on massive pokemon who were currently sitting: pokemon like haxorus and krookodile. Their eyes were set on sports magazines the bank provided its patrons while they waited.

Luis imagined a scene that might play out before him were he not to be careful. He imagined the beady eyes of pokemon – red with malice – slowly turn from their magazines and set on him. They then stood up and walked over to him, brandishing their thick, muscular arms.

He gulped in worry, blinked himself back into reality, and turned towards a line of pokemon who waited for their turn to make deposits and withdrawals. He became very aware of his satchel as he made his way to the front of the line, skipping a multitude of pokemon. He heard one of the tellers holler "Next" before making his way towards her as quick as he could, cutting in front of a gardevoir who barked at him in frustration.

"And what can I do for you, sir?" the teller, a hitmontop with a tag that read "Britney," asked, ignoring the gardevoir's complaints completely.

"I'm from the fire district," Luis explained nervously, telling himself that this was already soon to be over. "And our bank was struck by lightning a few weeks back."

"And you need to withdraw some money from this one?" Britney the teller asked. She then pointed towards a wooden door with a frosted-glass window on her left. "The manager of the bank is in that room taking requests for pokemon of your district. He's meeting with a few pokemon now, but if you'll wait by those doors, he'll be sure to help you when he's finished."

"Thank you very much," the flareon said as he left the counter, making his way for the door.

As he approached, he took a deep breath to try and calm down: something his father had taught him as a way of calming himself. He stood by the door, waiting anxiously for it to open. As he waited, he caught the gardevoir give him a murderous look as she walked up to the teller. Looking around, it seemed others had seen the altercation, burrowing into his nerves with their merciless scowls. It made Luis nervous enough to set his paw on the door.

You're fine. No one's going to attack. The stories are just stories.

He wondered what would happen next. Would his name just be one more on the morning's paper? Would memories of his life be the only things left for him? It was getting to be unbearable.

He glanced towards the door as if it were an escape from this place. _He… probably wouldn't mind if I waited inside,_ he reasoned.

His grip tightened on the door and pulled it open, quickly stepping into the room beyond.

"Mr. Manager, sir?" Luis said, finding himself in a room with orange wallpaper and potted plants placed in the corners. There were no windows, the only source of light being a chandelier and lamp resting on a mahogany desk. Behind the desk sat a very pale, sweaty, white sandslash who wore a black vest – obviously the manager – as what appeared to be a giant lizard (dusty, olive with a steel-blue stomach and jagged spikes protruding from its shoulders and the back of its head) stood above the him, wearing a brown cape that wrapped itself around his broad shoulders.

_A… tyranitar?_ Luis thought in awe. He had heard stories about the pokemon – how it was a powerful beast of incredible stature – but had never seen one before, nor did he think he ever would. He continued to stare in wonder before his eyes drifted down to what appeared to be a rusted, rapier sword clutched in one of its stony hands – the tip of the blade leveled with the sandslash's chest.

Luis immediately froze in place, confused for merely seconds about what he had walked into before he went to scream, taking a step backwards towards the exit. A set of red claws wrapped around the scruff of his neck, yanking him left and out of view from anyone outside the room before his jaw snapped shut as his captor covered his mouth with its black hands.

He heard the door close behind him before the sandslash took in a panicked breath of air.

"Well, _that_ complicates things," a voice said from the corner of the room. Luis looked to find that, hiding along the wall just out of sight from anyone opening the door, stood a short, female meowstic. A golden chain encircled its neck, contrasting her tattered fur with its luster. The meowstic was currently glaring above Louis' head, though Louis could care less why.

Standing relatively close to the meowstic next to some houseplants was a granbull whose face appeared meaner than any granbull Louis had encountered. Its arms were almost as bulky as the tyranitar's, though it hunched over defensively. A torn, red bandana rested around its neck while a beaten bag swung at its side.

"No shit it complicates things!" the pokemon holding Luis said, its head curled over him in annoyance. Luis squeaked in fear when he realized he was in the grip of a full-grown Noivern: one with gnarled teeth and a scar across its right cheek.

"Calm down," the granbull urged the noivern. "No one else saw anything." It looked towards the Meowstic for confirmation, her ears slightly perked as her eyes glowed a bright shade of pink.

"At the very least they're not panicking outside," the meowstic replied, returning to normal before scowling at the Noivern. "But that's only luck."

"Just keep him quiet and out of the way," the tyranitar said calmly. "The plan will work."

"And how long is this plan going to take now that there's another witness?" the Noivern said impatiently.

The tyranitar looked back at the Bank Manager, prodding him with the sword. The manager gasped in fear as the sword's tip punctured his vest.

"My associate has a good point, sir," the tyranitar calmly said. "Keep in mind that we're all busy pokemon."

"You won't be able to get into the Safety Despite Box!" the manager sputtered worriedly. "Even if I gave you the key, you won't be able to get it out of here without being caught!"

The tyranitar grinned down at the sandslash. "If there's no scene, the tin-heads won't stop us," it said with an almost believable sincerity to its voice. "But even if there was, believe me when I say we can take care of things on our end."

It leaned in, removing the sword's tip from the manager's vest, tapping the blade on his shoulders. The manager looked away, his breath shaking with fear as he shut his eyes tightly.

"The key," the tyranitar insisted calmly.

"Alright!" the manager cried, quickly reaching into his vest's pocket to produce a ring holding a massive array of keys. He reached down and plucked one of the keys off the ring and held it up to the tyranitar. Yet it didn't make a move to take the key.

"Sir, you have to understand that, as first-time customers to the bank, we're not entirely sure where to find the box. And you're still on the clock, are you not?"

"Th-the safety deposit boxes are numbered!" the sandslash yelped. "You don't n-need me to help find it!"

"Change of plans," the tyranitar said, turning to face his compatriots. "Randal, you and Joy stay here. Me, Pat, and the Manager are making the withdrawal."

"You've got to be joking, right?" the Noivern protested. "This Spitfire isn't going anywhere! I say we leave him here!"

"We can't trust him to make it into the vault without doing something reckless." The tyranitar seemed to direct that comment towards Luis which made him shrink in fear. "And if things go south and we get separated – which let's face it, they usually do – you're going to need backup."

The noivern shook his head, grumbling something to himself about hating babysitting. The granbull nodded to the tyranitar as the meowstic walked towards the manager.

"As for you," the tyranitar began, smiling at the manager. "You're job's… pretty simple." He nodded assuredly before saying, "All you need to do is walk with us through the vault door, open the safe with your keys, and then sit tight. We'll do the rest."

"I know what you're thinking," the meowstic said sassily. "You're hoping the teller asks you about us, wondering why you're taking us to the vault. Then, you'll tell her a phrase that says, 'Help! Robbers!'" She threw her arms up dramatically, making a low, screeching sound in the back of her voice.

The manager's eyes widened as his teeth started chattering in horror at the meowstic.

"How did I know?" she asked. "Even an ice-pop like you should realize that we meowstic are psychic."

Luis saw the tyranitar sneak a glance of confusion at the meowstic.

"A-alright!" the manager said, standing from his chair swiftly. "I understand! One option left for me, so I'll help!"

"If you don't, we'll eat you," the Noivern said with a grin. His comment attracted stupefied looks from all three of his compatriots. Even the manager seemed to look at him, dumbfounded by the statement. The noivern's smile faded into a confused look of his own as he asked, "What?"

"And what about the Spitfire?" the granbull asked, nodding towards Luis who whimpered in fear for being called to light. As the tyranitar looked at him, Luis began shaking in fear, his eyes widening as his mind brought his family to the forefront of his thoughts. Was this his imminent death? Would they kill him for catching them in the act?

The tyranitar sighed as he looked down to the meowstic. "I know it takes a lot of energy out of you, but could you-" he began.

"Of course," the meowstic said.

She began raising her paw towards Luis. He started to panic, struggling to get out of the Noivern's grip. He shot embers from his mouth in a last-ditch effort to get the beast off him. Tears began pouring down his cheeks as he realized this was the end. "I have a family!" he tried to plead, screaming through the Noivern's claws, but it came out no louder than a whisper. "I won't say a word! Just please! I don't want to die! Let me live!"

The meowstic's eyes widened quickly as its rabbit-like ears flopped open, revealing a new set of orange eyes which pierced through every emotion the flareon had. It shredded all his doubts and worries, leaving an almost calming feeling originating from his brain and spreading its warmth throughout his body. It was a strange feeling: like an inescapable ecstasy.

Colors began to blur together before his eyes, leaving images of splotched browns, blues, and yellows. He felt his legs go numb and limp before he collapsed. He knew he should have been falling forwards, but he didn't. And he didn't care. Strange as it is, he felt like a child again: enwrapped in a new world full of new, exciting places to explore and vibrant colors to see.

And the best part was that this room provided exactly what he sought. Every wall seemed to be flowing with colors which snaked themselves towards the center of the room, blinding his sights to all the pokemon around him. He tried to think of a word to describe it all – one to tie these feelings with – but he found he could care less. It was too mesmerizing: almost overwhelming.

Luis limply lied there in the noivern's arms, astounded by everything that was happening in his mind.

"Remind me again why we can't just leave him here?" the noivern asked as the meowstic leaned on the table for support. The tyranitar's face winced in worry for the meowstic.

"I'm fine," she assured him with a small smile.

"What did you do to him…?" the bank manager asked, looking at the now drooling flareon.

"Same thing she'll do to you if you don't cooperate," the granbull said flatly. "So, move."

The bank manager didn't need to be told twice, making his way quickly for the doorway. He reached for the handle before the tyranitar placed its hand on his shoulder.

"Relax," it assured. "We'll be out of your hair as soon as you give us what we came for, understand?"

* * *

At roughly 1700 Hours, the Center's Department of Law Enforcement received a frantic call from a bank located on the east side of the Center: right next to the Fire District. The call went out that there was a group of unidentified thieves who had robbed the bank and were out on the streets. The owner of the bank insisted on the Sergeant coming down and investigating herself.

She heaved a deep sigh, walking past the array of Steel Enforcers, knowing full-well that those Chrome-Heads were the reason the criminals got away. They were the reason she was called away from her usual routine and forced to mop up a mess that wasn't hers.

"Fifteen years running this town as Peacekeeper Sergeant, and the Council thinks they can do better with a militia?" the ursaring Sergeant asked as she reached down into her brown, cloth satchel, taking a handful of black berries and popped them into her maw. "What a fucking joke."

The ursaring removed a pair of sunglasses from her face and set them in the collar of her white uniform before walking into the building. Looking around the bank, she was starting to understand why this was as big of a deal as they were making it out to be. If the manager hadn't reported the robbery, this might have gone completely unnoticed. If only he had included who did the robbing before the shock of almost dying settled in.

A pignite wearing a white vest and a silver badge quickly waddled next to the Sergeant. Sweat beaded his face as he looked cautiously around the room. The Sergeant chuckled to herself. Looking at him, it was easy to tell he was a rookie: one she decided to train herself.

"Look around the room, Spitfire," she said. "What do you see?"

The pignite nodded once before carefully observing the room.

"Well…" he started, hesitating to give an answer. There was nothing unusual about the room as far as he could tell. "I see… a bank's lobby."

"And is there any blood in this lobby?" the Sergeant asked.

"Not that I can see."

"And what about the chairs?"

The pignite looked at her with a bit of confusion. "The… chairs?"

"Look at them," she said, pointing to the rows of cheap, metallic seats which had been repainted white multiple times, giving it blotches where the old coats had rubbed off.

The pignite shook his head. "I don't know what you're getting at. They're just chairs."

"What's the first rule about crime scenes?" she urged, attempting to lead him into the answer she was looking for.

"Don't touch anything that you don't need to," he answered.

"And look: no touching has been done. Everything's the same as when we arrived: minus the keepers inside the building."

She walked over to one of the chairs and hovered her hand over the surface, petting the air around it as if it were a cat.

"The chairs are lined up perfectly, the glass is intact, there's no damage done to the safe, walls, or floor."

The rookie's eyes tensed in a knowing look. "No signs of a struggle."

"Or a panic. They got in and out quickly and smoothly, no one even noticing."

"Quickly?" the pignite asked. "How do you know?"

"The Chrome-Heads interrogated everyone who was here, and hardly any of them remember seeing a group of four."

The pignite looked back cautiously towards the bank's exit.

"Don't worry about it," the sergeant said with a smile. "They won't attack a peacekeeper for name-calling."

"Still…" the pignite said with a pensive scowl before turning back towards the bank.

"As for this robbery," the sergeant said, grinning widely. "This was professional. They came in quietly, forced the manager to work with them for a few minutes, then locked the vault door behind them as they left, trapping him inside. They left without anyone suspecting a thing."

"What about cameras? Wouldn't they have caught the perps?"

The Sergeant chuckled to herself. "Spit-fire, you might come from a place where fancy things like cameras are easy to get ahold of, but most of the city can only afford to put food on a plate."

The pignite frowned slightly before sighing.

'Don't worry about it," the Sergeant said. "You just need to keep in mind-"

"Sergeant Lynn!" one of the peacekeepers called from a room to the left of the counter.

The Sergeant heaved a sigh. She gave the rookie a look that said, "See what I have to deal with?" before walking into the next room.

"What is it?" she asked, finding a bidoof peacekeeper looking seriously at a flareon who wore an orange-leaved satchel. It seemed to hardly be conscious, blinking frequently and holding its head with a paw.

"Who's this?" the ursaring asked.

"Luis…" Luis said wearily.

"What happened to him?" Sergeant Lynn asked.

The bidoof frowned at the flareon in pity, saying, "One of the robbers – a meowstic, he said – used some sort of psychic attack on him: made him feel like he was on drugs. It really messed him up, but he'll be fine."

"He was there during the attack," the rookie realized, turning towards his Sergeant. "He saw who did it." He leaned towards the flareon in curiosity and intrigue. Since they had arrived, not much had been made available to them in terms of evidence. This might be the witness they needed.

"Was one of the robbers a tyranitar?" the sergeant asked Luis.

Both peacekeepers looked towards their sergeant with surprise. Luis, however, shut his eyes tightly, curling himself into a shuddering ball on the floor.

"We're done here," the sergeant said as she turned to leave the room.

"Wait, what?" the rookie asked, walking by the sergeant's side. "But you've only asked one question, and he didn't even answer you."

"Then was it an indoor breeze that made him curl up?"

The pignite's face froze, feeling foolish for his statement.

"He gave us all we need to know," Sergeant Lynn said, her and the pignite exiting the bank into the street, the air chillier than usual from the setting sun. "We know there was a meowstic, and by the reaction to my question, a tyranitar."

"So?" the pignite asked.

"You haven't been outside fire-type territory for very long, so I'm letting you off the hook this time. But something you need to learn about the Center is it's notorious criminals: four of which are exceedingly dangerous and very good at getting out of tough situations."

"They're the ones that robbed the bank?" the pignite asked.

"A meowstic, a noivern, a granbull, and a tyranitar – their leader."

"I'm finding it hard to believe that last part," the rookie said. "I thought the tyranitar population was killed off when…" He trailed off at the end, finding it hard to get the words out.

"While that may be true for most, there are still pokemon that survived the purge: dangerous pokemon that shouldn't be taken lightly. Understand?"

The pignite nodded quickly. "So… there's a tyranitar," he said. "What now?"

"Now?" Sergeant Lynn asked calmly, putting on her sunglasses. "Now, we do nothing."

The pignite reared his head in slight shock. "Nothing?" he asked. "But ma'am-"

"I know this group," Lynn interrupted. "They're smart, trained, and organized. If this was them, then all we can do is wait for some evidence that was left in the bank and hope it tells us where they are in this massive city."

"We're not following them?" the rookie said frantically.

"If you know where to look, then lead on."

"We could…" he began, visibly racking his brain for an answer, but couldn't think of one.

"The city's too big, and they're too smart for us to just run into them on the street. Looking without evidence isn't going to do anything for us."

"So, we wait…" the pignite said with a sigh, wearing an irritated scowl.

"That's all we can do," Lynn said. "Just wait."

* * *

(Author's Notes)

Loving that I'm back to writing again! And I'm excited for you guys to get invested in everything!

Not much to say other than what's above.

Leave a comment and a favorite if you can!

Thanks for reading, everyone! I'll see you guys in the next chapter!

P. S. I'm connecting my DeviantArt account with this one for anyone interested in the art I've been working on. Link:

**Google Docs Link: ** document/d/188KuaJam9mKY4XNIEMS7sYeakDJQbXiQZzFsH97mMso/edit?usp=sharing)


	2. Chapter II: A Drink to Failure

**Begonias**

A Pokemon Fanfiction

Chapter II

A Drink to Failure

* * *

As the group made their way down the dirt path, they exchanged successful smiles and joyful cheers with one another. The tyranitar held his satchel tightly beneath his cloak and out of sight of watchful eyes: the sealed package resting comfortably in the nearly-empty bag.

"I still can't believe you fooled the manager into believing you could read his mind!" the noivern cackled aloud, covering his eyes as he howled with laughter. "Genius move!"

"I was surprised as well," the granbull admitted with a small smile. "You, Pat, are one deceptive meowstic."

Pat shrugged it off. "It wasn't that big of a deal," she simply stated, though her grin and blushing face made it clear to everyone she was very much enjoying this.

"But it was," the tyranitar stated. "To be honest, I didn't know where you were going with that, but you made that manager too afraid to do anything."

"Other than piss himself," The noivern chuckled.

"Stop!" Pat urged, shyly pawing at the air.

"Alright, now I have to ask," the noivern began. "It's about your eye… ear… thingies."

"Randy," the granbull, Joy, said with a warning glance in his direction.

"Is it true that they make your psychic powers strong enough to crush a pokemon's skull with a thought?"

"Gah!" the granbull grunted playfully. "Randal!"

"Babe, come on!" Randal said with a smile. "I've heard rumors that they can! I was just wondering is all."

"Rumors?" the tyranitar asked with a grin. "And you believed them?"

"Of course, he did," Pat teased. "He's Randal: half badass, half idiot."

"Hey!" Randal protested.

Everyone other than Randal busted out laughing in the middle of the street, catching the eyes of onlookers. Yet that did not bother them; they were use to it by now.

Pokemon would shoot them cold glances regardless of whether they were being loud or silent. It was just in the nature of the Center for pokemon to be cold and judgy.

"Ha ha," Randal said with a bit of annoyance in his voice. "I expected that from Pat, but from you, Harry?"

"We're just messing," Pat said, wiping her face of the tears. "But I'll admit, there are a lot of misconceptions about us.

"To answer honestly, no; I can't crush someone's skull with my mind. The eyes on the inside of my ears only boost my powers just a little higher than any regular psychic pokemon, but it does take a lot of energy out of a meowstic's system."

"It saved our hides today," the granbull said. "That flareon would have said something sooner or later."

"Thanks, Joy," Pat said with a bright smile, punching the granbull's arm playfully. Joy merely nodded, showing she shared the same feelings.

"That reminds me," Randal began. "What the hell were we even taking in the first place?"

"Right," Harry said with a playful scowl in Randal and Joy's direction. "You and Joy weren't there."

"We _were_ out for our anniversary," Joy countered.

"So?" Randal asked Harry. "What did we just steal?"

"Documents," Harry said, patting the bag at his side.

"Documents on what?" Joy asked.

Harry and Pat both smiled brightly, looking at their friends as though this were his favorite Christmas present. "A ticket out West."

"They're detailed plans of the Fire and Ice Districts made by the architects," Pat stated. "Blueprints on every house, every condo, and every mansion there."

"And most importantly," Harry said with a beaming grin. "Signed deeds for each house in the districts."

Randal's face immediately became ecstatic as he literally howled into the darkening sky with delight. Joy merely smiled expectantly at Harry as if wanting him to confirm once more that this was what they needed.

Randal then started chanting, "We're number one!" as he pumped his fist in the sky. Pat joined in the chanting and clapping along to the beat Randal provided, followed by Harry, and eventually Joy. Their voices carried through joyous echoes down the darkening alleyways as they chanted their victory.

"Open it!" Randal shouted, driving his fist skyward as he looked towards Harry.

"Wait a minute, wait a minute," Harry said, caught off-guard but still smiling. "We can't."

"Why not?" Pat questioned, pushing Harry playfully.

"I want to open it, too," Harry started. "But we all know that Draggs wanted us all in the same room before it happens to make sure we don't damage anything."

"Open it!" both Randal and Pat began chanting whilst clapping to each syllable. Their sneers refused to fade as they continued. "Open it! Open it!"

Harry rolled his eyes at the two. This wasn't the smartest thing to do given Draggs was technically their employer; what he says goes. Harry looked towards Joy for some sort of way out of his friend's peer pressure, but she offered no help, merely shrugging at him.

"Oh, come on," Harry said as he spread his arms.

"There's no harm in it," Joy said simply. "He'll get exactly what he wants regardless."

"Down with shitty rules!" Randal shouted.

Harry shook his head as he waved his arms shouting, "Alright! Alright! Alright!"

Both Randal and Pat lowered their voices and looked eagerly towards Harry for an answer. They both knew the odds were against them, but they didn't care.

"I hear your complaints," Harry began. "And…" He paused as if contemplating the options. To Harry, stress came from the others putting him on the spot like this; but for Randal and Pat, it was hope. "And I have to agree. Just this once, to hell with the rules. Let's open it!"

The whooping and hollering once again erupted from the two pokemon as Joy just laughed and shook her head. Harry grinned broadly at his friends whilst he reached into the bag and felt around his knife for the big, square package. When he had it in his grip, he pulled it out and poked a hole into the top with his claw before dragging it through the paper, tearing the package open. As he glanced inside, he found the blue papers resting securely inside. He removed one of the sheets of paper and began looking it over, his heart racing with excitement.

His eyes ran along the sheet of blue paper, seeing the white outlines of streets and tall buildings labelled by bold, white names. It felt too perfect for Harry to have this document in his hands that his eyes couldn't decide where to settle first.

After a few seconds of scanning the page, he found a word that caught his eyes along with a familiar building. Harry's smile began to fade slowly from his face as he continued to scan the page more intently. A pit began forming in his stomach as an ever-increasing number of words stood out to him.

"Wait…" he said, seriousness plaguing his voice. That single word and his lack of enthusiasm was enough to suck the life from the group.

"Wait?" Randal asked. He scoffed at Harry. "Wait for what?"

Harry allowed the page to fall out of his hands, leading to shocked looks from his colleagues. Yet he didn't allow them to deter him from removing another page to look over it.

Pat saw the emotion in Harry's eyes as his gaze drifted between the page to the buildings around them.

"Harry?" Joy said.

"You're freakin' us out over here," Pat said worriedly.

Harry began panting, his face becoming devoid of all joy. His heartbeat against his chest as the pit in his stomach seemed to expand into a lifeless void. He looked from the page to the buildings with frustration. "Damn it…" he said under his breath. He pulled out the last two pages from the package and scanned them, looking towards the buildings as he read.

The pit inside became unbearable, forcing Harry to his knees as he shut his eyes tightly in frustration. He beat on the pavement with his arms, crushing the pages in his grip. The earth shook as giant pillars of stone erected themselves through the pavement in front of the group, making everyone but Harry recoil in fear and shock. "Damn it all!" Harry roared.

"Harry?!" Pat questioned frantically. "What the hell's wrong with you?"

Randal walked up to the tyranitar and reached down for one of the pages. He ran his eyes over the lines with a grim expression.

"Oh, you've gotta be shitting me!" Randal shouted in disbelief.

"That blueprint's not for the Fire or Ice District, is it?" Joy asked grimly, scowling at the sky.

Pat reared her head towards Joy in horror. "That can't be true," she said. "It can't-"

"It's for the damn Center!" Randal shouted as he kicked at the ground with his heels. "All of that trouble and effort just so we can grab the wrong damn documents?!"

"We didn't grab the wrong documents!" Harry snarled into the floor. "Draggs told us to get into the box 2142, and I made sure we did!"

"It was a set-up," Joy said, lowering her scowling face to the ground.

Pat shook her head in skepticism. "N-no… No, Draggs wouldn't do that to us. He's been helping us fight for years. Why would he stop, now?"

"When I find him," Randal growled with a sneer. "I'm gonna eat that son-of-a-bitch."

"How could I be so stupid?!" Harry shouted.

"This isn't your fault," Joy said sincerely.

There was a miniscule part of Harry that agreed. This wasn't his fault. Draggs had been feeding them information and missions regarding the Fire District for months now. He contributed to the team's success just as much as any one of them. But a titan of guilt brought by logical thinking overshadowed his belief that he was innocent.

"Draggs is part of the Dusk before anything!" Harry grumble through clenched teeth. "Regardless of whether he _was_ a reliable informant, his duties were always with his group, and _their_ goals aren't _ours_! He was bound to betray us eventually: lie to us so we'd do his dirty work! And I believed him!" Harry beat his arm on the ground once more, summoning more stones in his frustration.

"So… he was just using us to get that document," Pat said. Her face tensed into a scowl. "I thought… he was with us…" Pat clenched her fist as disappointment rose in her chest. Tears rose in her stinging eyes. "This was supposed to change our lives… This was supposed to get us out west. But… what now?"

Harry didn't answer. He felt like his heart was shattering all over again. His emotions were flying off the rails in his head. He wanted to run. He wanted to fight. He wanted to harm – to maim – to murder.

Harry gave a deep sigh and stood up. He looked down the street at the stone spines protruding from the ground in front of him with a pensive stare.

"Enforcers are probably going to be here in a few minutes," Harry said with a surprising calmness to his voice, staring at the stones ahead. "You should all leave."

"And you?" Joy questioned.

"I'm going to get a drink."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Randal shouted. "We find out Draggs lied to us and sent us on a murder mission, and you want a drink?"

Randal's eyes widened in shock as he saw Harry take the first steps to leave them behind. It pissed him off to no ends to see the tyranitar not only ignore him but walk away.

"What?" Randal snarled, grabbing Harry by the shoulder. "Is being leader suddenly too hard for you-"

Harry's face became a mesh of hate and anger as he spun around and planted his fist in Randal's stomach.

Both Joy and Pat gasped as Randal started coughing. He grabbed at his chest before he doubled over, wheezing and gasping for air.

"Harry-" Pat began caringly, making her way towards the tyranitar, but felt herself firmly held in place by the arm. Turning around, Pat found Joy's fuzzy hand clenched the meowstic's wrist.

"What are you doing?" Pat asked.

Joy said nothing, simply standing there and watching as Harry towered over Randal.

"I'm getting a drink!" Harry snapped. "If you want to complain about it some more, why don't you try to get up and tell me again how I _can_ and _can't_ handle this situation!"

Randal couldn't respond or make a move, still clutching his stomach as he tried to breathe. Harry grimaced and stomped his foot in visible frustration before storming off down the road, leaving Pat, Joy, and Randal in shocked silence.

"Damn it, Randal," Joy reproached softly, walking towards the noivern and kneeling to help him on his feet.

"I just… don't understand him sometimes…" Randal said through a strained voice. "Why would he leave us like that? He's supposed to… lead us, you know? But now he's abandoning us?"

Joy sighed and shook her head. "For once in your life, think about the bigger picture," she implored Randal. "I know for us this was our chance to start everything over, but for Harry… This was more to him than just walking away."

Pat lowered her head, knowing Joy was right. "This was his chance to move on…"

Randal looked down the road towards Harry, contemplating what the girls had said. To them, this was a chance to leave behind their shitty world and live in peace. But… wasn't that Harry's motivation, as well? When he understood what they meant, he sighed. "Well, shit."

* * *

Harry scowled towards the floor as he trudged through the muddy streets. The air smelled like blood and depression. The clouds had passed overhead in the time he spent walking, blocking out any light the now moon-filled sky may have shed. He relied on the light cast by the remaining, working lamp posts: that, and his abilities as a Dark-type.

_How could I be this stupid?_ he thought, slapping the side of his head with a paw. _Of course, he betrayed us: used us! Draggs was working for the Dusk the entire time, and I let myself ignore that! And why?! So… we could get away from this hell hole? So… I could fight…?_

"Damn it!" he shouted as he kicked a stray can littering the sidewalk. It clinked around for a bit before it came to rest in front of an open door about as plain as a board of wood. The building itself wasn't much either: merely a grey hole-in-the-wall with a big, uneven sign hanging above its entrance that read in big, red letters, "Harley's Diner".

Harry stopped in his tracks, hearing a slow, peaceful tune floating from the door out into the street. It was soothing but also saddening in an odd, familiar way. It brought up memories Harry hadn't contemplated in a long while: memories of family, friends, acquaintances…

He recalled a scene of his old home: a simple cave dug out from the wall of a pit in the ground. He remembered spending entire holidays in his hay-stuffed bed just because he could. He remembered playing with friends on the cold, smooth, and oddly comfortable floor as his cousin would prod him playfully with a stick demanding they let him join in the fun.

Harry tried to keep the memories at bay with a shake of his head before stumbling forwards through the door.

He entered a giant, familiar room with wooden walls decorated in pictures and random stains. The floor was hardly any better seeing as crumbs and alcoholic beverages littered its glossy coat. A bar along the left side of the diner occupied a rather large amount of Steel Enforcers, all of which had gone off duty for the night and decided to test their skills at drinking games. The rest of the diner was filled with either booths along the walls or tables in the middle of the room whilst a lone piano with a machamp in a tuxedo sat at the back. It was the source of the depressing music. He seemed to be enjoying himself, swaying slowly to the music as he mouthed words yet did not sing.

Other than the machamp, the other members of the staff were grass-types who rushed around the diner to either take orders or quickly clean up any spills to retain what little physique the place could.

Observing the pokemon, it was immediately clear to the tyranitar that was going to have to sit at the bar seeing as the tables and booths were occupied by pockets of either electric-types or flying-types: both of which he knew would either be whispering about or eyeing him the entire night.

At the front of the building stood a serperior greeter who wore a black tie around his fleshy collar. Upon Harry's entering, he straightened his back proudly and smiled at the tyranitar.

"Welcome to Harley's Diner," he welcomed, extending a vine towards a stack of menus. As his eyes set more comfortably on the tyranitar, he hesitated to grab the menu as his smile brightened. "Hey, Harry. How have you been?"

"I need a drink," Harry stated before walking off towards the bar. He left the serperior simply looking confused. It stuttered after Harry but didn't pursue him, merely shrugging off the abrupt encounter before leaning on the wall in boredom.

Harry took a seat in one of the backless chairs set up at the left end of the black, marble bar. Two drunken mawile were laughing next to him, pushing against each other while they said nonsensical crap Harry could care less about.

He glanced down the bar to see a grovyle in a bowtie at the end shaking up a metallic container before pouring its murky-grey contents into a funnel-shaped glass edged in shaved ice. Harry sighed, knowing the grovyle wouldn't come closer to his side for a long time, and Harry didn't feel like calling out to him. So, he sat there and listened to the music, recalling more memories of the past.

Inside this bar, it seemed to Harry that the song was more sad than peaceful. He listened to it with a heavy heart as he clenched his fist, the blueprints still clutched in his claws. They crumpled underneath his grip.

He allowed the music drift into his mind, hoping that would keep his mind off his latest failure. Harry let it manipulate him with its melodical sadness. It reminded him of a familiar tune.

Harry's hand drifted down through his cloak to a pocket that rested next to his sword. He felt a lump in his cloak press against the back of his hand. It brought a smile to his face but also emotions he would rather not think about.

"Hey… G-Green Thumb!" one of the drunkard mawile – who swayed with each syllable – hollered, outstretching his glass into the bar. "I wan' another round!"

Harry glanced down the bar at the grovyle. It gave a nod to the patron as he finished off another customer's drink. He walked calmly and cheerfully down the bar before stopping at the mawile.

"And what drink was that for you, sir?" he asked calmly.

"You've been over he-ere all night. What d'you think?"

"Scotch?" he asked as he reached for the bottle.

"Of course, scotch!" he hollered. He then turned towards Harry, breathing straight up the tyranitar's nose with one of the foulest smelling things he had ever caught a whiff of. "Can you believe this poor bast-ard? No wonder the Sssspitfires turned all of 'em into slaves, righ?"

Harry ignored the mawile's comment as he waved towards the grovyle who poured another round into the mawile's cup. "I'll take some of that, too, Jessie."

"Hey, Harry," the grovyle said as he topped off the mawile's cup, knowing if he neglected to do so they would hound him. Jessie removed a cup out from below the bar and set it on the counter before pouring the scotch. "Haven't seen you in here for a while. What brings you around this dumpy, old place?"

Harry smiled grimly. Had this been another server, he'd have ignored the question entirely. But this wasn't any other server.

Harry loosened his grip around the blueprints before spreading them across the bar. The grovyle finished pouring out the half-cup serving of honey-yellow liquid before he set the bottle down. He placed a few cubes of ice in the cup before he glanced towards the blueprints. "Where'd you get that?" he asked.

"You'll probably hear about it in a few days," Harry said, picking up the glass. He tipped it upside-down and downed the drink, grimacing from the burn at the back of his throat.

"So, what's the problem?" the grovyle asked.

Harry began to sneer. "Someone we thought we could trust – someone we thought was helping us – told us that this document was going to help. Turns out he lied."

Jessie forced air through his teeth as he shook his head. "That's rough," he said.

"And the worst part is I should have seen it coming," Harry went on, staring blankly. "I should have known he was using us from the start."

"Why didn't you?" Jessie asked.

Harry laughed. "Not pulling any punches, are you?" He sighed, thinking about the question. "I guess… I just wanted to get away."

Jessie raised the bottle in an offering. Harry nodded as Jessie poured another drink.

"You can relate," Harry said.

The grovyle tipped the bottle back up before glancing around the pub. "I don't think…" Jessie started nervously.

"It's just us and these guys," Harry said, pointing towards the two mawile who were still giggling stupidly amongst themselves. "And they're too drunk to remember anything about tonight, let alone ask for the manager."

Jessie looked away in a bothered stare. His hand was visibly tight on the bottle as his brow-line tensed.

"You know how it is for Grass and Bug pokemon," he whispered to Harry. "Everyone does. We're treated like dirt. I mean, look behind you," he said giving a quick nod towards a table behind the tyranitar.

Harry watched as a steenee – one that looked younger than anyone else at the bar with a height of a little under two feet – held up a purple bottle to an electabuzz who sat at a table across the bar. He was currently talking contentedly with a yellow oricorio, but immediately looked irritated with the steenee. He scowled down at her and snapped vocally, ripping the bottle from her grasp as she winced and shuddered. The oricorio sitting next to the electabuzz hollered an order at the girl before shoving a glass into her hand.

Jessie wore a distasteful scowl as he whipped another glass out from underneath the bar. "And it's not like we can do anything to stop it," he growled. "One wrong move, and they send you away for 'correction.'"

"And let's say you can get away," Harry said. "Would you?"

Jessie smirked dreamily as he whipped down a glass with a rag he'd procured from the counter. "If only," he said as if that were his answer.

"I'm being serious," Harry assured.

"So am I." Jessie grimly shook his head before setting the glass below the counter and reaching for a new one. "Obviously, I'd run if I thought it would work, but here in the real world where would that get me? They'd report me as missing and send pokemon looking – the Iron Guard, maybe. _You_ might be able to run from the cops, but it's because when you walk by someone, they don't question whether you're a free pokemon or a slave who's on the run. They might shoot you a look because of typism and stereotypes, but if a Grass-type or Bug-type were to walk alone, we'd be arrested on sight. And because of our types, we can't fight back against… maybe… a third of the pokemon that would be sent looking. We just don't have the type-advantage that everyone else has.

"Nope. Even if we wanted to run, we'd get caught too quickly. And when we're returned to our owners we're beaten if we're lucky, sold back to plantations or sent away if we aren't."

"You talk about it like this is better than working on the fields," Harry said. As he took a swig of his drink, he looked back at Jessie to find he was scowling at the tyranitar.

"It is," Jessie said seriously.

Harry scoffed. "Either way you're a slave to Spitfires and Ice Pops. What's the difference?"

"The difference is we're dying out there in the fields," Jessie said with a look of anger. "We're dehydrated and forced to work all-hours of the day. At least here, we get to work indoors."

"Not everyone does," he said with a shake of his head. "You're ignoring the facts."

"Easy for you to say, seeing as you've never had to take shit from other pokemon."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry felt that same pit from before grow in his chest. Anger came to the forefront of his mind.

"You have no clue what it's like to be a slave," Jessie stated, leaning in towards Harry. "It takes so much to stay alive. It takes sacrifice to see someone dying because of abuse – someone who could have easily been you – and do nothing because you know intervening would cause your own death."

"That's not sacrifice, that's cowardice!" Harry snapped. "You're only acting with your own life in mind! What's the difference between you and your Slave Masters?"

Jessie sniggered. "Don't talk about sacrifice when you haven't given up anything in your life."

Harry leapt to his feet, his anger bubbling over as he crushed the glass in the palm of his right hand. A murderous scene played across the snarl present.

Yet he merely watched Jessie. The grovyle's eyes fidgeted as if expecting to be slapped at any moment. But Harry did no such thing.

Pretty soon, Harry realized the whole bar had their eyes set on him. They watched with baited breaths at what may happen next.

"You don't know what happened to me," he hissed at Jessie. "You don't know what sacrifices were made so I could be alive!"

Harry huffed before he fell back into his chair. He mentally thought about reaching for the glass before he realized its shards were inside of his hand, which he promptly opened, allowing the shiny debris and dust to spill onto the counter. He threw up his hands in frustration.

The people of the bar went back to their meaningless tasks and conversation as Jessie reached for another glass, placing it in front of Harry. He shoveled a little more ice into the cup before pouring another round of scotch.

"Thanks," Harry said softly, scowling towards the glass.

Jessie nodded pensively, saying, "On the house."

"Yo, Green Thumb!" a pokemon bellowed from down the bar. "You gonna flap your gums all day or are we gonna get some drinks down here?!"

"Yeah!" other pokemon cheered.

Jessie took one deep breath before he nodded to walk towards the hollering pokemon, leaving Harry to sit with his thoughts.

The night passed with an almost taunting slowness about it. Harry didn't drink much more – a shot or two to numb his emotions: just enough to make them more bearable, but not enough to make him drunk (he could hold his liquor with the best of them).

Thankfully, by this point in time, the piano player began playing bouncier songs; maybe he had a lot of complaints about the depressing ones filling the bar with emotion, something generally forgotten in a place like this. Pokemon had moved some of the tables away from the bar's center to form a dance floor where they began swing dancing with pokemon of their types. There was also the fact that the drunkard sitting next to Harry had passed out about a half-hour ago, leaving it mostly peaceful where he was sitting.

The only thing keeping the mood low was Jessie, though not by choice. He didn't speak much to Harry during the remainder of his stay, only walking past him to make sure Harry or other patrons didn't want another drink.

Harry held the glass to his face with his free hand, spinning his wrist and watching as the remaining scotch and ice rhythmically spun around in the bottom of the cup. It kept his mind off the blueprints (which he had placed into his bag) along with his darker thoughts.

Yet it hadn't stop him from recalling how he'd reacted hours ago in the streets. He stopped spinning the glass, examining his knuckles that had been in Randal's chest hours ago. _Probably wasn't the best move on my part…_ he thought, feeling slightly guilty over the attack: slightly.

He reached towards the sleeping mawile – or more specifically, the satchel which rested on its hip to open it carefully. He began rummaging around for some spare change but stopped when he found a long, green object that looked like a hard leaf invading the corner of his sight. Following the object, he discovered it belonged to the steenee from before who was currently standing behind his chair, her gaze fixated on something at Harry's side.

Harry immediately turned towards his opposite side to his own bag whose flap was lightly opened by the steenee from before. She was currently concentrating with her tongue out whilst her grubby left-hand rummaged inside Harry's bag, searching for something, as her right held the hilt of Harry's dagger towards the floor.

"What do you think you're doing?" Harry snapped as he forcefully grabbed her right arm. She gave a yelp as she jumped, looking towards Harry with panicked eyes.

Harry looked towards her expecting an answer. "Well?"

"I…" she stuttered as her eyes grew wider with each passing second. Her eyes darted backwards towards the table where the electabuzz and oricorio were located as if she were looking for help. Then, it clicked.

"Oh," Harry said with a calmness to his voice as he glanced backwards at the two pokemon. "Those are your slavers, right?"

"N-no!" the steenee squealed as true horror overtook every feature on her face.

Harry stood up, still grabbing the girl tightly, and smiled cruelly down at her. "They put you up to this, didn't they?"

"I-it was me!" the steenee pleaded. "They didn't have anything to do with it!"

"Let's find out, shall we?"

Harry picked up the steenee by her arm, carrying her like a bag of potatoes. She began to retaliate against him, kicking against his side and banging his arm with her free one, yet she didn't cry out for help. The only noises she made were quiet pleas for him to stop. Nevertheless, Harry approached the chatty pokemon with a ferocity about him.

"Excuse me," Harry forcefully said over the electabuzz and oricorio's conversation. The two pokemon looked towards Harry, scowling at him over the interruption.

"Do you mind?" the electabuzz asked.

"George," the oricorio said, panicked as her eyes set on the steenee.

The electabuzz's face went pale as he realized that was _his_ steenee in Harry's grip; not only that, but she was wielding a knife.

The steenee's body began to shudder uncontrollably. Taking a glimpse down at her, Harry noticed she was staring at the oricorio with dilated pupils and a quivering leaf.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Harry said with a calm in his voice, yet he did not wear a smile. "But I think that sending your slave to steal from me is crossing some kind of a line, and it's a gesture I don't appreciate."

The electabuzz's expression changed in an instant from shock to confusion. "W-what?" he asked.

"You think this was our plan?" the oricorio protested with a sort of irritated shake of her pom-poms. "The nerve of you quarry folk!"

"Then what do you suggest?" Harry asked as he scowled towards the shivering steenee. "She… did it herself?"

It was at this point that Harry became confused. Maybe it took stating the possibility aloud that made his scales stand up. His eyes drifted towards the steenee's pale expression, and then upwards towards the knife it was brandishing. Why steal the knife in the first place? Surely these pokemon – slavers – had to be capable of getting their own, more valuable knife. Why take his?

"Sir," the electabuzz began. "We're terribly sorry our help has disturbed you in this way, but we had nothing to do with her actions."

Yet Harry didn't listen to them. He was still fixated on the steenee. His eyes drifted down towards her arms. He didn't realize it before, but they were bruised and covered in dirt. And her pale expression didn't drift from the two pokemon: pokemon she previously insisted weren't involved.

Harry then looked towards the oricorio who eyed him worriedly. Her foot was pressed behind her as if ready to bolt if need-be. For some reason it brought some calm to Harry's mind.

"You're saying she acted on her own?" Harry asked.

"We had nothing to do with that weapon!" the electabuzz spat, electricity arching from his antennae irritatingly.

Harry nodded slowly. "Alright. So, where do you think this should go, then? If your slave acted on her own – rummaging through my bag and taking my knife of her own free will – then there should be some sort of punishment. Am I right?"

"Of course," the oricorio said. She shot a menacing glare towards the steenee who struggled against gravity to curl into a ball. "There will be."

Harry smiled a thoughtful smirk. "And as the slave owners who let something like this occur, shouldn't there be some sort of due payment on your ends?"

"Say what?" the oricorio asked, immediately swapping her scowl for an open-beaked frown.

"Well, as slave owners, it's your responsibility to keep your slaves in line, is it not?"

"Not legally," the electabuzz said.

Harry glared at the electabuzz's comment. He expected some sort of intimidation to be happening – a yelp or a stagger – but his look didn't seem to faze the electabuzz in the slightest. Instead, he stood firmly in the ground, raising his head to the tyranitar. Harry noticed some of the bar's eyes had turned towards the group expectantly. They salivated at the mouths for the tension that brewed between the pokemon.

"What type of payment?" the electabuzz asked, articulating each syllable.

"Well…" Harry started. His calmness remained unfazed whilst he spoke. "I was thinking, if you can't handle a slave, then maybe you shouldn't have one at all."

"Ooh!" some jeers called out from random pokemon listening in.

The electabuzz continued its unending scowl, not turning from Harry. "What does that mean?" he spat.

"This slave needs a proper master," Harry continued. "And that would be me."

"You must think we're insane," the oricorio said. "But if you would set _it_ down, we could all put this behind us and move on."

"I don't think you have much of a choice," Harry said, pulling back a chair from the table before sitting comfortably. He slowly lowered the steenee to the floor, loosening his grip just enough to make her more comfortable but not so much as to allow her to run.

Harry leaned across the table towards the two electric pokemon, his face beaming in calm confidence. "Think about this," he whispered. "I'm not the only one who would have a beef with you. If she _was_ digging around in my bag. Who's to say she wasn't busy robbing other pokemon?"

The emotion in the electabuzz changed as fast as a lit fuse. Instead of his firm demeanor, his eyes darted around to the other patrons who continued to watch their conversation with expectancy in their smirks.

"I'd agree to my demands," Harry said, reaching for the cup of liquor in front of the electabuzz. He grasped it comfortably and took a swig of the burning liquid before puffing a relaxed sigh. "If not… Well, all it takes is a whisper to create a mob."

The electabuzz shot a vicious glance around the table towards the steenee. With a forceful, "bang" on the table, Harry slammed the surface with his free hand demanding the electabuzz's attention. "The girl is the least of your worries!" he snarled, tapping his claws on the wood. Harry took a deep breath, regaining his composure before asking with false sweetness, "Wouldn't you agree?"

"This is blackmail!" the electabuzz snapped in a hushed tone. His horns began to arch ferociously with electricity as he spoke. "You want compensation, do you?"

"I wouldn't do that," Harry said, recognizing the imminent attack. Harry reached into his cloak and pulled the hilt of his rapier above the table just enough to create visibility.

The electabuzz's electrical arcs ceased as his breath caught inside of his throat. The oricorio quickly tapped the electabuzz's shoulder with her pom-poms.

"It's fine!" she assured with a twitch in her beak. "We can get another one easily enough. You know that!" The oricorio watched the rest of the bar with worry. "She isn't worth this!"

Harry stood from the table, striding towards the two with the steenee in tow. She didn't resist the tyranitar, allowing him to lead her easy enough.

Harry leaned in towards the electabuzz, the gap between them shrinking to a breath's distance. "So? Is she worth being mauled by this whole bar?"

The electabuzz fixated his gaze on the opposite end of the floor and away from Harry. His lip twitched as he searched his brain for a way out. But Harry knew there was none.

The police could care less about a slave transferring owners. Hell, they might side against the electabuzz. Either way, reporting this would be a waste of time. And if the government believed the slave was in the hands of _someone_, they wouldn't send the Steel Enforcers looking.

The electabuzz shook his head quickly in response.

"So?" Harry questioned, demanding verbal confirmation.

"Take it," he whispered, his voice soaked in detest of either Harry or the whole ordeal: probably both.

Harry outreached a hand for a firm shake but merely received dagger-filled glares from the electabuzz. So instead, Harry stood up and made his way to the exit.

As the two exited the diner, Harry took a refreshing breath of the cold, night air. He could hear the bar return to their normal conversations, though they sounded vaguely annoyed that there had not been any brawls.

"What are you gonna do?" the steenee asked worriedly, glaring up at the tyranitar through the tops of her eyes.

Harry smiled towards the sky before shaking his head. "Nothing," he said to the girl who glanced backwards into the bar with worry. "They won't bother you anymore, so you can drop my knife."

"W-why would I do that?" the steenee said, panic still in her voice as she glared at the beast.

Harry let go of the steenee and raised his hands defensively, taking a step away. "I'm not like your slavers, and I don't want to hurt you. So, can you please let go of the knife?"

The steenee continued to scowl suspiciously towards him before her eyes drifted at her now-released arm. She allowed a shuddering breath to escape before the rusty blade clattered to the floor. Harry was quick about taking the blade's hilt and setting it into his bag.

"You shouldn't be stealing," Harry said. "You know that, right?"

"Like I had a choice…" the steenee grumbled. "They would have killed me sooner or later for screwing up something stupid."

"Other pokemon kill grass-types for stealing from them. You're lucky that: A. It was me who caught you, and B. I could spin all of that in a way that would split the blame with your slavers."

"Well, it's not my fault you're a freak," the steenee said.

"A… freak?" Harry couldn't help but snicker at the comment. It felt like a pretty out-of-the-blue thing to say. "What, are my horns too short for you?"

"You're the first one who's ever caught me," she said. "No one catches me."

"You've done this before?" he asked, cocking his head to the side. "And you got away with it?"

It was an obvious fact to Harry that to steal something takes either blending in or extreme stealth. He found it hard to believe a Grass-type was unnoticeable enough to get away with something like that.

"Duh," the steenee said, showing her left hand to the tyranitar. His head tilted even further as his gaze set on the glitteriest golden bracelet Harry had ever set his dirt-poor eyes upon.

"Huh," he said in shock.

"The lady with the big teeth," she said as if responding to Harry's surprise, pointing back into the bar. "She was the one making kissy faces at your back while we left."

Harry found it hard to take his eyes from the bracelet. It was impressive enough to be able to take something like that in passing, but as a Green-Thumb? She had to have stood out like a... well, like a Green-Thumb.

"Uncle Dwight use to say I wouldn't amount to being anything more than a toothpick, but I don't think that's right."

Harry sighed before shaking his head. "Fine. You're an alright thief," he admitted. "But at the very least, you shouldn't be stealing from others. Places on the other hand…"

"I'm better than, 'alright'," she said in a mocking tone before puffing out her chest. Her head-leaf perked up before she said with a gleam to her voice, "Momma says I'm the greatest!"

"Right…" Harry said dismissively. "Anyways, you're free now. They shouldn't come after you seeing as they think I'm your new slaver, so you should be fine on your own."

The steenee nodded at Harry, yet it didn't take very long for her to start to shake with fear.

"W-what?" she began with panic.

"This is where we part, kid," Harry said with a small wave. "Good luck, though you probably won't need it with that 'sneaky sneaky' thing you got going for you."

"W-wait!" the steenee demanded.

"Be careful out there, alright?"

Harry began walking down the dirt road with a false calm on his face. He wanted to scowl, but he couldn't place why. He should feel good about this. _She has her freedom because of me,_ he thought._ Sure, it's hard for a kid to survive out here on their own, but it isn't impossible. Plus, she's good at stealing things. She'll make it._

Yet these thoughts seemed to Harry more like excuses to leave her. But what more could he do?

"Hang on!" the steenee called out as she ran towards Harry. "Take me with you!"

"You'll be fine if you stay careful," Harry explained. He stopped in his tracks when he felt the soft, almost leafy skin of the steenee grab his ankle

"But I don't know where to go!"

Harry rolled his eyes at the little girl. She wasn't making this easy, was she? "Honestly, that's not my problem," he said before he lightly shook the steenee from his leg.

"You kicked their butts, and that wasn't your problem."

"Let's just say I have issues with slavers."

"Where am I supposed to go?" she hollered up to him once more while the corners of her eyes filled with tears.

"Again," Harry said. "Not my problem."

The steenee stopped in her tracks, watching the tyranitar as he began walking ahead with certainty: a seeming conviction to be unhelpful. She couldn't understand. Was her slave master the only reason he intervened?

"You're… you're just afraid like everyone else!"

Harry stopped in his tracks at that comment. The steenee donned a look of shock. _That… worked?_ she thought. "You…" she began, frantically trying to come up with something else to say. "You're just afraid!"

"Afraid of what?" Harry asked, looking at the steenee through the corner of his eye.

"A-afraid of… being arrested!" she shouted. "And… of me!"

Harry sighed before continuing to walk away. "Don't follow me," he told the girl.

"Don't leave me behind!" the girl screamed out in a final fit of desperation.

Harry's breath wavered as his feet planted themselves. As he stood there in the silence of the night, his eyes tightly shut together as his chest felt like all of tonight's emotion was going to pop through his ribs. The steenee's words rang through his head with so much ferocity – so much familiarity.

"I'm the leader of a group of outlaws," Harry said. "Doesn't that bother you?"

"I… don't care," the steenee replied.

Harry stared at her through the corner of his eye for a good long while, observing her shivering face, yet… Her eyes were hopeful. But why? Did she honestly think he could take her in?

"I can't help you, kid," he said once more, looking away into the blackness ahead of him before walking off.

As he left the girl there, shivering in worry and fear, he felt his heart ache. She wondered what to do. Had she truly been abandoned? Was this some kind of twisted joke? Surely, he didn't save her from those monsters just to leave her to die.

Yet Harry didn't look back. The steenee's words rang in his head like bells, but he couldn't do anything about it. An outlaw couldn't help the girl, and she couldn't help him. She'd just be dead weight: a drain on food and resources that were already so far out of their reach.

So, he kept walking, refusing to sneak even a peak back at the girl, afraid if he did his emotions would overcome him. He tried ignoring the phrase that continued to bombard his mind: "Don't leave me behind". He tried desperately to ignore the internal fear it brought up inside of him.

"Just…" Harry said in a whisper. "Just take care of yourself, kid…"

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Hey, guys!

What's up?

Just wanted to ask that you guys leave a review on how your liking the story so far, as well as some complaints you have so I can make it more enjoyable. This is the only time I'll ask to make the Author's Notes readable and not filled with crap. :P

Shout-outs to the new followers and those that favorited the story: Sincerely, thanks so much for this, guys! It truly means a lot that you like my work enough to follow it!

Thought Process for this Chapter:

For this Chapter, I wanted to make Harry a more prominent character in your heads while introducing the world and the characters in. Just for those who care.

Thanks for reading, guys! I'll see you all in the next chapter!


	3. Chapter III: All According to Plan

**Begonias**

A Pokemon Fanfiction

Chapter III

All According to Plan

* * *

(A/N) As of **7/4/2020**, I've made some light **modifications** to the **character descriptions**, Sergeant Lynn's smoking scene has been reworked to her eating berries, and there's now a complete **change** for the **name** of the Law Enforcement **from** **"Police Officers**" to **"Peacekeepers"** for the sake of originality (that and because it fits the story better that way (not for political reasons, I promise)). Just wanted to let you guys know seeing as these facts are introduced back in Chapter 1. Anyways, thanks for bearing with me! Onto the chapter!

* * *

The walk back was simple enough – maybe took him an hour and a half at the most to find the stony archway at the city's borders. Splatters of red and blue berries stained the archway while pink ribbons swayed in the wind. As the tyranitar felt the cobblestone pathway and shadows cast over him fade with the surrounding buildings, he found himself in an orange, craggy field stretching towards the all-encompassing wall. He was back in the Rock District. There was no life out here: just fields of pebbles and deep pits scattered randomly across the plains.

Harry's eyes set on an abandoned building about half a mile from his position. He invested all focus into the building, trying to evade images of the steenee girl. Don't think about how scared she must have been: how betrayed she must have felt by the world itself for leaving her behind… No, there were other things to worry about.

As he approached the building, he glanced at archways that stood on the edges of the pits: more specifically, he observed the numbers etched into the top. Large gusts of wind would occasionally push against Harry's body, but its hindrance was a minor one at best.

_30… 40… 50._ Harry swung a sharp right, walking down the worn path which connected the pits. He began to count the archways until he reached one labelled "56" before passing underneath onto a wooden ramp that creaked with every step.

He took his time during his decline, passing multiple levels of catwalks etched into the interior walls like spiral shelves until a set of words carved into the wall read, "B10". He stepped off the ramp and onto the spiral shelf: a pathway wrapping across the wall connecting cozy burrow-like homes dug into the pit's wall. Looking over the catwalk's edge, one could see a seemingly endless void untouched by the moon's soft beams, though Harry knew there was a bottom.

At the pit's end, catacombs built by hand snaked through the layers of clay serving as either a network of underground alleyways between the different pits or a spaghetti-bowl of mining tunnels stripped of their valuables. It was an underground maze of junctions and dead ends: easy for anyone to lose themselves if careless.

Harry trudged across the catwalk, passing walls literally covered in crystals meticulously placed by the pit's previous inhabitants. In fact, these crystals soaked the walls in clusters of rainbow hues. Though within these rainbows came blotches of reflective blacks.

To some pokemon, these blacks tainted pure beauty, as if the only purpose to the rainbow wall was for art. It annoyed the tyranitar. Sure, should the moon hit the cave's walls just right, they made for a beautiful spectacle, but there was purpose behind every stone: a story that wanted to be told.

Walking the length of the catwalk, Harry took care to avoid any red stains in the wood out of courtesy to whoever it once belonged to. He passed by a couple of burrows in the wall before finding the familiar "welcome" sign splayed out across the floor. A heavy sack tied closed by a lace of frayed rope rested next to the burrow's entrance. Harry took hold of the sack and undid the lace, revealing the sack was filled with the same colorful crystals as the wall.

"Are you drunk?" a calmed, gruff voice questioned from behind.

"No," Harry stated, not bothering a glance towards the granbull who made a darkened corner of the catwalk her roost. He removed a handful of crystals while Joy walked out from the shadows. "So, how long were you waiting for me?

"Does it matter?" Joy asked.

Harry gave a light smile towards the gemstones. "Not really," he said. The tyranitar began pacing the wall, observing the array of colors for an empty spot.

"We need to talk," Joy stated.

Harry hummed in fake contemplation before saying, "Do I play the guy who assaulted your boyfriend or the leader of our group of bandits?"

Joy huffed at the tyranitar. "Draggs," Joy insisted. "I'm talking about Draggs."

"What about him?" Harry began. Honestly, he was hardly paying attention. He was more interested in the vacant spot he located in the wall, allowing him to proceed with his job.

The tyranitar closed his eyes, envisioning the scaly palm of his hand. He imagined the darkness around him encircling him, trapping him in a black void. The void began to swirl around him, focusing itself into a compact sphere of darkened energy in the palm of his hand. He felt the veins in his arm begin to drain of blood before popping with pressure just under the scales. An all-consuming cold regulated to a pulsating mass no bigger than his palm enveloped the handful of crystals. Harry opened his eyes to see the void in his imagination took a physical shape, bathing the colorful crystals in its black energy. After mere seconds of soaking these crystals in darkness, Harry allowed his hand to relax and the energy to disperse into the air, robbing the crystals of their rainbow hues and leaving the shards as black as the above night sky.

"Harry," Joy urged.

"What do you want me to say?" Harry asked, placing the crystals into the wall. "You've been thinking about how to deal with him, right?"

"Yes," Joy answered. "But-"

"Then talk. Tell me what you've come up with."

As the tyranitar reached to place another crystal, he felt a furry, yet crushing grip hold his arm in place. Joy scowled up at him, insisting in a calmed yet aggressive tone, "The dead can wait.

Harry took a deep breath, steeling himself and his emotions. He would much rather continue his work than converse about what may or may not happen, but the options as they stood were strategize with Joy or be hurled over the side for inciting the wrath of a granbull.

"Alright," Harry said defeatedly, setting the remaining, darkened crystals into the pouch. He set the sack onto the floor before facing Joy's scowl. "You now have my undivided attention."

"Good," Joy stated, finally satisfied with the tyranitar. "Now, talk to me; what do you have?"

Harry couldn't help but smirk at the granbull. "Nothing more than you."

"Really?" Joy asked, unsure of whether Harry was being truthful or just trying to weasel his way out of strategizing. "Do you expect me to believe you haven't thought up one single thing on your way back?"

Harry felt his stomach tense as he recalled the steenee girl's words. "I had… other things on my mind."

Joy looked unsatisfied with the answer yet shrugged it away easily enough. "Fine," she said. "I'll start, then:

"I don't think we have a choice but to fight Draggs."

Harry couldn't help but smile, crossing his arms at the granbull. "You've been spending too much time with your boyfriend."

"Randal has nothing to do with it," Joy assured. "All that matters are the facts, and the fact is that Draggs betrayed us. He has to know we'd find out about his betrayal eventually, and we'd fight him when we did."

"You're right," Harry said with a few nods. "He'll be planning for a backlash, so he'll want to attack preemptively."

"That leaves us with two options," Joy said. "We talk our way out of this or we kill Draggs tonight in the vain hope that it sends a big enough message to the Dusk that we're not to be trifled with."

"You still haven't said why running won't help us," Harry reminded.

Joy gave a huff at the tyranitar, letting him know he was getting ahead of her. Harry apologetically raised an open hand and allowed her to continue.

"Think about it this way: The Dusk has the entirety of the Dark District under their nails. And to have as many black market deals as they do without drawing the attention of Peacekeeper-"

"You're saying they have too many resources to run forever," Harry summed.

Joy simply nodded. "And if those facts weren't bad enough, they're marking more and more of the Rock District as Dusk territory. It's only a matter of time before they find our hideout. Bottom line is we need their respect."

They both looked at each other as if waiting for a way out, but they merely stared in silence. They were both smart enough to know any reassurance made was a lie. The truth was that they had nothing to go on.

A small smile escaped the corner of Joy's rough face. She made her way to the catwalk's railing, leaning over its wooden supports and staring into the darkness below.. Harry walked to her side, smirking confusedly at her expression.

"What?" the tyranitar asked. "Why the smile?"

"I just find it entertaining," Joy admitted. "I mean, the one night Randal takes me out to relax and stop worrying so much and look at what happens. We're stuck in an impossible situation."

Harry sighed into the cold air. "This one's not on you," he said. "It's on me.."

"Really?" Joy asked as her smile faded into a confused scowl.

"You warned us about Draggs from the start, and I didn't listen. You warned us that trusting the Dusk was a bad idea. But…" As frustration overtook Harry's face, he smeared his forehead as if trying to wipe his expressions away. "We all just wanted to get out so badly, you know? We wanted… We wanted… everything to get better than this cold pit in the ground. And I-"

"Stop," Joy urged.

Harry had to blink twice to realize Joy had cut him off. "Joy, I'm not sure if you realize what I'm trying to do here, but-" The tyranitar fell silent as the granbull shot him an insistent scowl.

"Don't," Joy insisted – not in a cold way but more like an assuring friend. She sighed, tugging at the worn, red bandanna around her neck as she searched for the right words to say. "While it's true that I warned everyone about trusting Draggs, it isn't fair for you to take all the blame. I… wanted to leave this place as much as the rest of you. And when you put the decision up to a vote, I was…" A huff escaped the granbull's throat before she continued. "I was relieved with the idea that we might actually make some head-way.

"What I'm trying to say is that this is not just your fault. It's on all of us, so don't apologize. Understand?"

When Joy finished speaking, she directed her gaze back into the pit. Harry, however, continued to stare at the granbull before his lip curled into a half-smile he couldn't stop even if he wanted to. "Joy-" he began.

"And don't thank me, either," Joy interjected. "I'm just saying what needed to be said."

A small chuckle escaped Harry's mouth before he leaned over the railing. "I was just going to say that if you wanted to be the leader again, I wouldn't object."

Joy rolled her eyes once more, allowing that to be her only response. After that, silence once again overtook the chasm.

As Harry leaned over the rail, he listened to the world around him. The wind whistled above the two, whipping through a couple of banners, spreading the cold around the district. The sounds above were contrasted by the silent corridors below them. Somehow, it was nice. It gave Harry a chance to simply breathe: relax.

He couldn't remember the last time he could. There was always something he had to do: something he had to take care of. As the leader of thieves or as the only resident of a lifeless district. But for this single moment, he didn't need to think about what happened next. All he needed to do was lean over the railing with a friend.

As the tyranitar gave himself to the silence, Joy found herself restless with what could go wrong. Would they die tonight? Would all of their work be for nothing? Was it her fault?

Glancing at Harry, she felt a longing in her heart for the calm that radiated from each breath.. Was he actually able to ignore their present problems? How could he relax knowing his friends were in danger? How when Draggs tricked them into this trap for seemingly no reason whatsoever?

What was he after, anyhow? The Center was a districtless mess. It evolved from a place of meeting between the different districts into a hub for business and upward expansion. So why would the Dusk need to know the layouts of these buildings?

"We're missing something," Joy stated, pulling Harry back into the moment. The tyranitar resisted the urge to sigh as he listened to the granbull. "Why would a gang need plans for the center?"

"They're probably looking for something," Harry said. He noticed Joy eyeing him suspiciously to which Harry simply smirked. "I'm just speculating.

"What I don't understand is why Draggs didn't just tell us what we were taking in the first place."

"If we're speculating," Joy began. "Then maybe the reason Draggs didn't tell us was because he was afraid we'd ask too many questions. Or maybe he found out we'd robbed The Dusk before and didn't trust us."

"Maybe," Harry shrugged. "This job might just be his way of getting one, final use out of us before we're murdered. I wouldn't put it past him."

Joy sighed through clenched teeth. "I wish we had more to work with. We're just speculating at this point."

Harry shrugged. "They're more like logical conclusions based on previous encounters with the guy."

"Speculation," Joy corrected. "In any case, we might as well stick with what we have."

"Which is?" Harry asked.

The granbull straightened her back and removed a piece of paper from the bag at her side. She unraveled it across the floor to reveal what appeared to be a messy, self-drawn schematic of a three-storied building drawn in blue paint.

Joy tapped a claw to the paper, saying, "We know where we're meeting Draggs, so I had Pat draw up a rough schematic of the place."

"She remembered what it looked like?" Harry asked, tracing a finger over the blue outline of the building.

"Randal helped," Joy added. "But regardless, since we know Draggs is a coward, we should prepare for the worst-case scenario and formulate some form of a battle-plan."

"Alright," Harry said, nodding towards the granbull. "Am I correct in assuming you have some ideas?"

Joy looked up from the map into Harry's eyes in confirmation. The tyranitar gave a simple nod to Joy before the two began forming a plot.

* * *

They used every possible second going over the sloppy prints mapped out by a noivern's hearing and a meowstic's psychic mind: regrettably not as accurate as Harry hoped, but it would have to do. In the end, Harry and Joy formulated the very basics of what could be considered a plan. They attempted to take everything into account, going off any information they could recall from previous meetings. At the end of the day, neither of them could say they were happy with their progress, yet they were out of time.

They worked quickly to prepare, packing any item that could benefit them in their possible fight. After that, they rallied the troops.

Harry found Pat fiddling nervously with her tails on a hay-stuffed mattress, having tried to rest for nearly an hour before giving up. It seemed impossible for her to get even a wink of sleep, something Harry could understand. Given current events, he was surprised the meowstic was keeping a handle on her emotions. Other than the light, occasional fidget she looked as calm as a rock.

Randal, however, was found drooling on his bedroll. Joy had to admit, it was very unsightly. She had to drag the noivern by the tail to get him out of bed, but not at the cost of hearing the tired phrase, "You never wake a sleeping dragon!" She merely shot the yawning dragon a warning glance before they all made their way out of the pit.

Regardless of the circumstances, the group made reasonable time; they got up, prepared their items, and scaled the pit's ramp in about a half-an-hour. They began their trek through the craggy plains heading north towards the tall, distant, blank slate of wall, though their walk would end long before they reached their small world's all-encompassing barrier.

As they walked, Harry explained the "plan" to the rest of the group. Upon hearing the lack of actual directions given to them, Pat found it hard to convey anything without giving away her actual emotions. She tried to keep a straight face for the sake of the group, but she was scared and irritated.

This plan felt lazy. When they normally took a job, they would learn the basic layout of the building, how many pokemon they were dealing with, what their goal was, where it was, etcetera, etcetera: Harry and Joy would weed out every possibility. But this? This felt lazy – sloppy – unorganized. Were they that pathetic this time around or did they just not have enough time?

No, it was definitely time. Damn Harry for drinking. She knew it was only a matter of time before his "hobby" interfered with a mission, but she never spoke up before. He owned so much emotional baggage that she never wanted to take away his escape. But this time? He went too far.

_Chill out, Pat,_ the meowstic told herself, shooting daggers into the floor as Harry explained the rest of their plan. _Harry's plan has never let you down before… Well, he's never gotten you killed before. There's no reason to start worrying, now. Even if he didn't visit the bar, we never had enough time to sort through everything. We'll pull through like we always do._

As Harry finished, Joy couldn't help but scowl. She thought this plan was sloppy, too. And she couldn't hold her emotions as well as her meowstic friend.

The granbull walked next to Randal, holding his unruly talons in her fuzzy hand, trying desperately not to squeeze. Yet her enveloping thoughts strangled her mind, taking all focus away. She couldn't help but squeeze as if grasping for some sort of comfort. So many things were up in the air. How could she not worry?

"_It's gonna be fine,"_ the noivern whispered to the granbull. He modulated the frequency of his voice so that Harry wouldn't be able to hear – one of the perks to having a noivern for a boyfriend.

Joy glanced ahead at Pat to see if she picked up on Randal's reassurance, but the meowstic was so focused on keeping her cool that hearing something at normal decibels seemed improbable.

Joy sighed in response to Randal's assurance, letting him know that she did not share his confidence. Was all of this truly going to be fine? If they had more time to come up with a strategy, maybe, but Harry sabotaged any extra time with his drinking. Why was it that whenever Harry fell on troubled times he would drink before figuring things out?

_"Nothing's gonna happen to us, alright?"_ Randal assured, smiling down at Joy. _"You don't have to worry about a thing. I'll kill anyone that tries to hurt us."_

Some might have considered it a sloppy guarantee. Joy knew that his promise wouldn't amount to much when they got into the fight. Any thought of defense would be thrown to the sky, replaced with an insatiable bloodlust. But… she felt her face soften into a small smile.

Maybe it was that stupid grin that stretched across the noivern's face that made her spirits lift. Or maybe it was the sheer audacity in the way the noivern acted as though the world would submit to him just because he _was_ Randal. Regardless, she smiled at the starless sky, allowing herself to feel happy knowing her boyfriend was there to scare her fears away. He grabbed Joy by the shoulder and pulled her into a hug as they all walked into the darkened horizon.

* * *

It didn't take too long before Harry noticed the black spots that randomly littered the surrounding earth as though an ashless fire scorched the ground itself. Blackened ribbons swayed through the chilled breeze, tied to the surrounding archways. Each move they made deeper into the district seemed to be another step into an aura of danger.

Despite his attempt at appearing calm, a scowl planted itself on Harry's face. He resisted the urge in his hand that demanded to hover close to his cloak, ready to pull away the cloth to reveal his damaged rapier. They could be watching.

Randal's energy faded with each black ribbon they passed. Joy would squeeze his hand in reassurance, but she was worried too: they all were. Pat was the only one who managed to puff out her chest confidently, accurately masking the panic behind her eyes. It was something Harry didn't envy; that skill to instantly mask her emotions was something that came with pain he could hardly imagine.

With a few final steps the group found themselves in front of a windowless, cobblestone building whose right corner had collapsed into a heap of dust and rubble. Massive words etched into the wall that read, "Food Bank" sat above a cracked archway, serving as an entrance into the three-storied building.

Two mightyena stood in front of the entrance, blocking the way inside. They both looked as though a dust devil recently blew through the area, soiling their unruly fur in enough dirt to tint them orange. Black rings etched themselves around their left ankles as though they purposefully stained their fur in the same manner as the black spots in the ground.

A low rumble in the mightyenas' maws reverberated through the air towards the group, signaling for them to stop.

"You know the rules," the right mightyena barked. "Leave your weapons and bags on the floor."

"We want to see Draggs," Harry said with a calm but firm scowl, ignoring the mightyena's request. "Now."

"The bags," the mightyena demanded, curling its upper lips to flash shining teeth at the group.

Pat calmly glanced towards Harry as if pleading for a way out. This would end their plan before it even began.

"We have the package in our bag," Harry stated flatly. "Leaving it here does nothing for your boss."

The left mightyena looked towards the right as if conveying an unsaid message when a sharp whistle rang out from inside the building. The mightyenas' ears perked up as if to listen before an irritated, yet diplomatic voice called from within the building.

"For the sake of Arceus, just let them in already! We don't have all night to debate with clients!"

The two mightyenas quickly looked at each other once more as if to confirm they both heard their leader's words before stepping away from the door, relaxing their bodies as an all-clear for the group to enter.

Harry gave a smug smile, nodding his head in thanks before they moved past. Randal aggressively mouthed the words "thank you" to the mightyena before rolling his eyes and following the group into the building.

The thieves found themselves in a massive room that stretched upwards the whole three stories. Toppled, rusted shelves whose contents had long since been raided were pushed to the side creating a messy, rubble-filled pathway towards the back of the store. Pat couldn't help but gag at unseen hives of mold and decaying food hidden under the shelves, pouring a stench foul enough to kill throughout the building.

Harry glanced upwards towards the balconies above which also supported a variety of empty shelves. There were enough to hide an entire battalion above their very heads.

Randal was also watching the balconies, yet you could almost see the adrenaline in his eager eyes. His ears twitched as he tapped a claw to his fuzzy thigh nine times.

Pat let out a quick sigh at the noivern, having received his message. "Is that all?" she asked sarcastically as she pinched her nose to prevent from gagging at the smell. "And here I was thinking he let us keep the bags out of trust."

"Stay focused," Joy growled. "And stick to the plan. Don't give Draggs a reason to attack us before we're ready."

Pat pursed her lips at the comment but quickly regained her composure as the group approached the end of the building.

There, illuminated by a lone beam of moonlight that slipped through a crack in the ceiling, was a bulky honchkrow with black streaks staining his red-and-white plumage. A black ribbon sat atop the puffy, hat-like top of his head while a set of needle-like daggers lined a leathery strap on his spindly legs.

Harry felt a pit in his stomach upon seeing the honchkrow's bright yet tired expression. He stood up slowly before making his way down to the tyranitar.

"Harry," Draggs addressed, extending his wing towards the tyranitar. "How was the raid?"

Harry gave a fake smile back, planting his hand in the honchkrow's rough wing but continued to meet Draggs' gaze. "All according to plan," Harry stated. "Taking out the Spit-fire's bank put the package right where you said it would. From there, it was easy enough to manipulate the bank manager into breaking into the vault."

"So, you have it?" Draggs questioned.

"That's what you hired us for, right?" Harry asked with a hint of aggression in his voice. He could almost hear Joy's berating thoughts at the tone, but it wasn't a slip in any sense of the word.

Draggs paused for a moment, obviously catching Harry's change in tone. Yet just as quick as the change, Draggs dismissed it before holding out a wing for the package.

Harry reached into his bag and removed the package, holding it out for the honchkrow. Yet when Draggs reached for the package, Harry pulled it away and out of his reach. "Actually," he began. "Before we start, I think we should talk."

Draggs allowed a small chuckle to escape before he looked at the tyranitar with a demanding glare. "Harry," he began calmly. "I can't tell you what you want to know without inspecting the package."

"Oh, I think you can," Harry said.

Draggs eyed Harry curiously. He opened his beak to question what Harry was getting at before he stopped. Draggs released the package and sighed. "You opened the package, didn't you?" he asked like a father questioning their disobedient child.

"We don't want a fight, Draggs," Harry said. "If it's possible, we'd much rather talk things over."

Draggs turned from the group, walking back towards the counter behind. He began stroking the surface with the tip of his wing, observing the dust that clung to his plumage with disgust. "What was the plan?" he asked calmly.

"Kicking your ass," the noivern sneered.

Joy shot Randal a murderous glare before stating, "What he _means_ to say is that we're prepared to fight if it comes down to it. But we can assure you, we'd rather no one get hurt."

Harry took an insistent step towards Draggs. "We just want to talk-"

The tyranitar was cut off by the single pounding of Draggs' closed fist on the counter. Concealed by Harry's cape, his hand sifted through his bag's messy contents for the rough handle of his knife. Draggs sighed deeply before leaning over the counter.

"Talk," he said with a nod. "What's there to talk about?"

"Why the deception?" Pat spoke up. "Why'd you lie to us?"

"Pat," Joy warned. But the meowstic didn't listen. Pat didn't want to skirt around the tough questions and pray Draggs didn't attack. If the honchkrow was going to fight, he would have decided before they got there. Nothing she said would make a difference, and she wanted answers.

"Why didn't you just tell us what you wanted in the first place?" the meowstic continued. "Why tell us we were searching for plans on the Fire District when they were actually for the Center?"

Draggs took a step away from the counter before eyeing Pat with intrigue. "Let's just say my leader knows more about what's in the Fire District than he does the Center."

"You said you wanted out of this city like the rest of us. So, why-"

Draggs cut the meowstic off with a sharp laugh. "It's true what they say about you clairvoyants! So naïve!

"The West. All of you want to leave the City so badly that you'll believe in anyone who says they want the same thing. You'll believe every lie anyone tells you."

Pat felt a growl within her chest struggling to get through her throat. A scowl escaped her calmed demeanor as she continued. "Did you ever want to leave the City, or was that just another lie?"

A meaty hand grabbed Pat by the shoulder and spun her around towards the aggravated granbull. "That's enough," she demanded in a whisper. "Get ahold of yourself. Now."

"Let her speak," Draggs urged. "She obviously has questions, and I don't mind answering for the time being." Draggs tapped a wing to the underside of his beak, pondering Pat's previous question. "Did I ever want to leave… I did – still do, actually – but the simple fact is that there's no future outside. To leave the city would be to run from everything, and that's not my style. I'd rather change the world than run from it.

"Besides, The West is nothing more than a fairy-tale invented by _her_ kind." Draggs pointed a wing towards Joy before continuing. "What do they say? A better future awaits those who traverse The West? Well, that's what the pixies want everyone to believe so you stop looking at the real problems of society and focus on something else. It's how them, the Fire, and the Ice Districts all stay in control.

"Let's face the facts: our city was a stronghold built to survive an apocalypse that's left everything outside in desolation. The only reason we're still alive is because they built walls around _our _city. If you manage to leave there'd be nothing for you except dehydration, starvation, and whatever hell destroyed everything outside."

Joy could tell that every word Draggs spoke impacted Pat. Her breath began to quiver as the tears rolled down her cheeks. Yet she had the most murderous look in her snarl.

"We're prisoners and you know it!" Pat spat.

Joy was about to make another move on Pat when Harry stepped towards the honchkrow, taking back the conversation saying, "As fun as this is, discussing ideologies isn't why we're here. I'd much rather know what your plan was after we gave you the documents."

Draggs hummed aloud, tapping a feather on the side of his beak. "My original plan… is irrelevant."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Randal questioned.

Draggs quickly raised a wing into the air, ushering the sound of shuffling from overhead as seven dark-types emerged from behind the above shelves and shaded corners of the building.

Each pokemon stood up straight and wore a black ring scorched into their left arms. They eyed the pokemon below, awaiting another signal from their leader.

Harry pursed his lips as he scanned the readied stances of the dark-types: five above them and four below. He didn't know whether to continue his confident act or admit that things were starting to look bad.

Randal spread his claws to his sides as if welcoming the impending battle whereas Pat and Joy raised their arms defensively.

"You never answered my question," Harry stated, more to bide his time than anything, hoping to assess some sort of weakness in the pokemon above. "What's your plan here?"

"It's obviously to kill you, Harry," Draggs stated as though it were fact.

The tyranitar sighed, shaking his head dismissively. "You're smarter than this, Draggs. We still have your blueprints. Aren't you worried about destroying it in the cross-fire?"

The honchkrow rolled his eyes at the tyranitar. "Was this your plan?" he asked. "Use the package as leverage to make a deal with the Dusk?"

Harry shrugged at the honchkrow. "It's Plan A."

"It's a faulty plan, Harry. You see, it turns out I don't actually need those blueprints."

Harry felt the blood drain from his face as his entire group stared at Draggs. Out of everything they discussed, all the possibilities he went over with Joy, this was the one they both believed was impossible. "What?"

Draggs gave a huff as if finally bored by the tyranitar. "This meeting is more of a… formality at this point," he said.

"What the hell are you talking about?!" Joy finally barked, more confused and infuriated than any of the members. "You risked your own ass to destroy the Fire District's bank! And now you're telling us… what? You didn't actually care?"

Draggs looked sheepishly towards Harry. "Time for me to be completely honest – up until a week ago, the pokemon I work for had little clue that we – "we" as in you thieves and myself – were working together. Apparently, a little over a year ago, someone hired your group to steal from us." At that statement, Harry could hear a groan in Joy's throat.

"Now, I can overlook this for the sake of the Dusk's goals. But our leader isn't that forgiving. He's convinced that, in the future, your group might be hired to steal from us again. Can you see where we might have a problem?"

"Then why hire us in the first place?" Pat questioned. "You must have talked with your boss before sending us to get the blueprints, so why work with us at all?"

"You're good at what you do," Draggs continued. "And those blueprints would make the Dusk's goals a lot easier to realize. But the simple truth of the matter is that the Dusk was built upon reputation: one that you all damaged. So rather than keep you all alive, allowing pokemon to believe there might not be consequences to going against us, our leader would rather kill you."

Harry was finally seeing most of the missing pieces fall into place. It was all starting to come together. "And what about the blueprints? You said they would make your job easier, right?"

"Compared to the damage your group did to the Dusk's reputation, losing those blueprints is a very small price to pay if it means remedying the situation – or that's how our leader sees it, at least."

"Harry?" Randal urged with a grin.

Harry's hand, which had sifted through every inch of his bag by now, was unable to find the blade. It curled into a tightened fist, defeated by the mess of his bag. As Harry mentally rolled his eyes, he settled for a small seed that fit comfortably in his hand.

"Is there any chance I can change your mind?" Harry asked one last time.

"If this were up to me, I'd pay you and be done with this," Draggs admitted. "But it isn't up to-"

Harry procured the seed from his bag, merely asking the question to catch Draggs off guard. The seed sped through the air, collided with the honchkrow's beak, and exploded into a yellow, sparking cloud. As Draggs teetered backwards, he gasped in shock at the explosion of yellow. His lungs filled with the sparking cloud as he staggered into a wheezing fit, frantically waving his wing through the above air. Almost instantly, beams of black, pure energy shot from all sides towards the group.

Pat made quick work to open her ears and reveal her hidden eyes. She was instantly bathed in a pink aura as the surrounding, toppled shelves surrounded the group in a metal shield. The attacks panged against the rusted shelves but dispersed into the air on contact, leaving black marks against the rust.

Randal howled in excitement as he weaved between the shield of shelves with speed and ferocity, climbing the nearby pillar with his talons towards his first victim – a black raticate. They were too fixated on sending dark pulses towards the rest of the group to notice the noivern's claws etched themselves into its furry back. Once their body collapsed onto the floor, Randal made a quick pace towards the next dark-type.

Joy side-stepped one of the floating shelves to throw one of her own small seeds towards a support for the balcony. Upon impact, the seed detonated, shattering the wooden support in a plume of smoke and a loud "crunch", collapsing the third-story balcony onto a couple of pokemon. Wood and rubble buried any attempts at a shriek before Joy ducked back behind the shelves.

"I'd say this is going well," Harry said before slamming his foot into the ground, summoning a spine of rock underneath a krokorok who thought he could rush the barrier. He watched through the cracks in Pat's shield as the pokemon flew skywards towards the ceiling. "Wouldn't you say so?"

In an instant, the shelves fell to the floor as Pat shouted in pain. A lucky dark pulse managed to slip in between the shelves and impact Pat's arm, forcing her to the floor. She panted, feeling the energy drain from her seared fur as if it were an energy siphon.

The remaining pokemon took their opportunity, letting a few more bursts of darkness fly towards the group. Harry reacted quickly, stamping his foot to erect a wall of stones around Pat's body, shielding her from the incoming wave. Indignant screams rang out as Pat pounded against the stones, but that was the least of Harry's worries. He raised his arms defensively as the blasts streaked against his scales in staining darkness.

The attacks did little against Harry's hide, but it was just enough to make the tyranitar sore. Yet upon seeing the meowstic was sealed within the stones, taken out of the fight, the attackers decided to switch tactics and fire off random blasts of energy – some water-based and others electrical. Yet there was little time before-

"Time to die!" Randal roared in ecstasy as he leapt the gap between balconies, catching the air beneath his damaged wings. About half-way between his jump, directly overhead of Harry and Joy, the noivern whipped his right wing through the air summoning a massive gust of wind powerful enough to shake Harry's rock-hard stance. Joy leapt into the air, using the indoor blast of air to propel herself towards the balconies. From there, Harry stamped his foot summoning a final stone pillar underneath Joy's foot, allowing her the decisive step she needed to cover the distance and land next to a couple of attackers. Joy swung her arms in the same way Randal did his wings, manipulating the aeolian force at her back. It whistled past the granbull and crashed into a couple of zweilous' scaly chests, throwing them both through the wall and out into the craggy fields.

Randal's soaring attack came to an end when his thick skull collided with sableye whose electrical blast ended in vain. The dark-type winced as much as a pokemon with diamonds for eyes could as the noivern opened his jaw, shooting a purple beam of energy down its throat. When Randal ceased the blast, the sableye's body was limp and motionless.

As Harry's mental count reached eight, he glanced cautiously around the building. No one was left, but he knew there had to be one more. He waited a few seconds for a blast of energy, knowing he could deal with whatever assault would come his way, but received nothing but Randal's joyous jeers at fallen opponents. It was finished.

Harry walked towards Pat's wall of stones, the meowstic still pounding on the rocks in desperation. He grabbed at the top of the stone before pulling towards himself, collapsing the rocks into dust and rubble. The instant the stones collapsed, the meowstic sprung to her feet, hyperventilating as she leaned on a nearby shelf to catch her breath.

"Are you hurt?" Harry asked.

"Do you mean my body or my pride?" Pat began between breaths, raising an accusing eyebrow at Harry. He procured a blue berry from his sack and offered it to Pat.

"We were under fire," Harry explained to the meowstic. "I had to improvise."

"What the hell, Harry?!" Joy barked as she jabbed a fist into a crease in the tyranitar's back. Harry's body seized from the attack. He managed a couple of steps away from Joy, eyeing her in confusion.

"What?" he asked the granbull defensively. "We're alive, aren't we?"

Joy snarled viciously, pointing an accusing finger at him. "The plan was to throw your _knife_ at Draggs, not a stun seed!"

"I-I had to… improvise?" Harry offered, yet his mind was taken away as he realized they were missing something.

Harry searched the surrounding area for any sign of the honchkrow but found nothing more than new rubble and the bodies of the Dusk's members. "Where did Draggs go?" he questioned.

"He made it out the door a few seconds after the fight," Pat stated in response to Harry's shifting gaze. "One of the fighters and those mightyena from before helped him. They're probably hiding out there in some hole."

"I told you we'd be fine!" Randal cheered as he ran up to Joy, pulling her into a hug. The granbull was taken aback, surprised at his obliviousness to the conversation happening mere feet from him.

Pat sighed, cradling her arm as she walked over to Harry. "Joy's right, you know. He wouldn't have gotten away had you followed your own plan and threw the knife."

"I know that," Harry stated. "But _again_, I had to improvise."

Harry removed his bag from his shoulder before spilling its contents onto the floor. Pat glanced through the spill of items, searching for an object that should reflect the moonlight, yet to her dismay there was none to be found.

"What's wrong?" Randal said, finally taking note of his own group's lack of celebration. He glanced over Pat's shoulder at the contents of Harry's bag. "Why'd you dump your stuff, Harry?"

"Harry lost his knife," Joy started with a glare at the tyranitar. "And that let Draggs get away."

The noivern shook his head disapprovingly at the tyranitar. "Really, Harry?"

"I didn't lose it," Harry swore.

"Then where's the knife?" Pat questioned. "Because it obviously isn't here."

Harry felt the back of his neck grow hotter as his eyes wandered around the building. "It's… complicated," he said slowly. He had merely a suspicion, though he wasn't about to share it. Pat would never let him live down the humiliation if it were true.

"But you don't have it," Pat stated. "Therefore, you lost it."

"I didn't lose it!" Harry insisted.

"What's it matter?" Randal said, swinging his wing around Pat's neck, who allowed a small "ow" to escape her lips before pulling her hurt arm closer to her chest. "We improvised in the moment and pulled out a win! So, what if Harry used a knife or not?"

Joy pressed her left index finger to her temple as if strained by Randal's ignorance. "Randy, we didn't _just_ improvise. We had some form of a plan to work with."

"Agree to disagree," the noivern said before planting a kiss on the granbull's forehead. She merely rolled her eyes in defeat.

"Aren't we forgetting something?" Pat questioned. "We're still in trouble."

Randal smirked at Pat, saying, "One moron and his minions getting away doesn't make any difference. After that spanking, the Dusk knows _we're_ the ones to be respected!"

"I don't think that's right," Pat said grimly. "The only thing the Dusk is going to take from this is to send twenty mons instead of nine. Not only that, but we lost our only source of information today."

"True," Harry said with a sigh. "But we'll have to manage."

"No," Pat said forcefully, shaking Randal's wing off her shoulder before taking a step towards Harry. "We can't just dismiss this. If they find us-"

"We don't have a choice," Harry said with a worried glare. "We have to keep working towards getting out of the city, and we can't just let fear stop us now – or would you rather we do nothing?"

"You're oversimplifying things," she stated. "This is the Dusk we're talking about. They're the biggest black-market smugglers in the City, and they kill people daily for reasons most pokemon never find out about. They'll bury us."

"Harry's right," Joy stated with a tight brow. She hated to agree with him after his massive blunder, but it must be said. "The only thing we can do is keep moving forward. That doesn't mean we shouldn't be careful, but we can't just stop because we have enemies."

"Never stopped us before," Randal said with a sneer.

"Don't worry about it," Harry assured Pat. "All we need to do is make sure we don't lead them back to base, and we should be fine for the next few months."

Pat glared at Harry. Draggs brought nine pokemon because he thought they were just thieves. He knows they're more than that, now. Why didn't he understand that?

Nevertheless, she felt there would be nothing gained by protesting the point further, so she took a deep breath and regained her composure. She calmed her tone before saying, "We still have one problem; what do we do now that Draggs isn't our informant?"

Randal's jovial expression ceased before he looked to Harry for an answer, but instead Joy was the one to provide. "We keep our ears open and continue with our jobs."

The noivern huffed in disapproval. "That's our solution? We spent nearly two years before we started making some headway. How are we supposed to get out of this place like that?"

"We don't have a choice," Harry stated calmly. "The fact is we don't have anyone else right now.

"We'll find someone eventually. For now, we'll keep pushing until we do: we have to. The West is still out there, and after everything we've been through, we're not stopping here. Agreed?"

Randal and Joy nodded in agreement, seeing no alternative. They would find something eventually. Pat took a moment to respond. As much as she hated how tonight turned out, they didn't have a choice but to move on.

"Agreed."


	4. Chapter IV: The Council

**Begonias**

A Pokemon Fanfiction

Chapter IV

The Council

* * *

**TINY SHARDS** of ice filled the air, fluttering at the mercy of the district's chilly winds. The crunching of snow underneath the weavile's feet irritated him. It was a faint annoyance – like someone skimming their fingertips over a board of chalk – but it was constant. He pulled a worn, white scarf tighter around his neck as a gust brushed the falling, white specks against his face.

_Why did it always snow in this district?_ he thought, an annoyed look plastered to his curled lip.

The weavile despised the weather here. He preferred it when the sun was out, and the snowy carpet of their district turned to mush. But the other inhabitants of the Ice District – the pokemon he represented – enjoyed the overcast nature of their home. Making snowmons and igloos was a common past-time – one that showed by the many sculptures that painted the streets. Hell, they even had a daily ritual to bring more snow into the district.

And if constant snow on the outside of homes wasn't bad enough, some bastard designed their buildings to bring snow into their houses, too. Every small, homey building was equipped with thin, foldable walls instead of windows – the only solid parts of the house being the foundation, roof, and a multitude of supports where most of the snow accumulated. Why the foldable walls? Why, for snow, of course. Foldable walls meant opening the house to the outside air, allowing it to blanket the indoor floors in – you guessed it – snow (of course, when the mood called for privacy, they could easily shut their walls, but who in their right mind would prefer discretion over snow?). The district's lifestyle was enough to drive any outsider to hypothermia. But no, we were expected to appreciate the chilled atmosphere – coexist with it, almost as if we relied on it for life itself. Ha!

Outsiders would think them strange if they knew the inner workings of their district. Hell, the weavile thought it absurd, and he lived there.

You might ask yourself, "If he hated the snow so much, why doesn't he just stay indoors?" Sadly, that was a luxury the weavile could not afford. He had responsibilities – more responsibilities than the other Ice-pops could handle. They would rather remain ignorant of the problems unfolding around them and live in the bliss and snow.

No, ignorant was the wrong word. These pokemon were blatantly overlooking the obvious issue of their fire-type neighbors.

No doubt they had heard about the Fire District's bank having been, "hit by lightning". If they stopped for even a second and thought it through, it was a painfully obvious farce. Yet the weavile knew these pokemon were malleable in their fear of watching their lifestyle – their idea of what their district was – melt away like the very snow they coveted.

"Tenebri," a salazzle called out from ahead. Staring through the falling fragments of white, inside a building ahead of the weavile, sat a group of pokemon who all looked at the weavile. The salazzle in the group waved rapidly for the pokemon, pleading for him to stop dragging his feet and reach the group already.

Tenebri took his time, eventually stepping through the open-walled building and into what appeared to be a diner. He didn't bother brushing the snow from his feet for obvious reasons.

An array of empty tables filled the building's floor whilst hanging, yellow lights dotted the ceiling like bright stars. In the center of the room sat a group of six pokemon who previously pulled two tables together forming one big enough for their group. On one side of the table sat the salazzle from before, a magcargo, and an infernape – each pokemon being the fire-type representative on the Council of Seven. Across from the fire-types sat (or in this case floated) a glalie and an aurorus, the latter of which laid outside the building, snaking its head across the floor to fit inside (Tenebri was surprised she could even live in their district given her inability to fit into buildings not specifically catered to pokemon of her… height). At the far end of the table, with a pout affixed to her sunken face, sat a sylveon whose pelt dripped with melting snow.

The weavile took an empty seat between the glalie and aurorus before kicking his snow-covered feet onto the table, leaning back in his seat.

As he sat, a froslass with a notepad came strolling towards him – no doubt to ask if he wanted something from the tap to drink. Tenebri merely shooed the froslass away before scowling towards the magcargo who called him here in the first place. "What's this about, Keres?"

"If this is about your bank," the glalie grumbled.

"There's been a new development in the situation," the magcargo stated grimly. "We all know about the robbery in the Center right?"

"Get on with it, Keres," the weavile grumbled from his seat. The other ice-types all nodded in response while the sylveon merely listened intently.

"Well," the salazzle spoke up, absentmindedly picking at her teeth. "Let's just say Alastor was correct in wanting to keep the blueprints in district."

The glalie, Alastor, shot upwards with an intense – and almost triumphant – scowl. "I knew it!" he blared at the magcargo. "Trusting you with the blueprints was a mistake!"

"Sit. Down. Now." the magcargo demanded flatly. The flame which spouted from a divot in its shell flared with each syllable. "You're making a fool of yourself."

"Why did we trust Keres with the blueprints in the first place?!"

"Because his great grandfather was the producer of those blueprints," Tenebri, the weavile, stated from his seat. "If anyone were to take care of them, it should have been him."

"I made a mistake," the magcargo said almost proudly. "But let's not pretend that this is irrecoverable. We know who took the documents."

Keres nodded towards the infernape who procured a set of papers – bearing the red seal of a six-pronged star stamped to each page – And spread them across the table for the others to see.

The papers, handwritten in charcoal, were a detailed report that recounted a bank manager's testimony regarding a robbery of his bank. A curvy signature of one, "Sergeant Berdine Lynn of the Center's Peacekeeping Division" had been scrawled in ink on a line at the bottom.

Alastor the glalie summoned a small gust of wind only strong enough to float the pages down the table so he could read. Yet as the papers drifted towards him, the weavile snatched the papers from the air before quickly reading through the entirety of the document. The glalie stared blankly at him before huffing in annoyance.

When the weavile was done, he splayed the papers neatly in front of the glalie for him to read.

"A tyranitar…" Tenebri huffed with familiarity as he tapped his white claws against his chin in thought.

The sylveon's ears perked upwards at the mention of the tyranitar. "A rock-type?" she asked.

"The Thieves' Guild did this?" the glailee questioned, rereading the report just to confirm what he said to be true. "That could be a problem…"

"But what about your district's bank?" the aurorous asked. "We all know it's destruction was no random occurrence. Could these pokemon truly have the resources to destroy it?"

"Perhaps the Dusk is involved," the salazzle suggested. "Wouldn't be the first time those _Smugglers_ interfered with our government."

The infernape shook his head swiftly. "That report says the Thieve's Guild is comprised of a fairy-type. The Dusk never works with Pixies: ever."

"Though I normally I tend to agree with you, Deidre," Tenebri began, "I would advise against absolutes. It makes you look foolish."

"With your choice in fashion, you're one to talk," the salazzle said snidely, shooting Tenebri's scarf a mocking smile.

The weavile ignored the comment entirely, merely readjusting the white garment before he continued. "Why is this tyranitar a concern?"

"You know why," the magcargo stated. "These pokemon knew what they were taking, implying they know what's on those blueprints.

"Dr. Giraldo is mere weeks away from finishing the project. If they find the lab's location before-"

"Councilmen, Councilwomen," Tenebri began, loudly cutting the magcargo off. He shot up from his chair, bounding onto the table in a single motion to clearly address the group. "I assure you that this is not as big of a concern as you are all making it out to be."

"Isn't it?" the sylveon asked, finally speaking up. The table looked towards her with raised eyebrows, surprise, and above all, irritation. "Assuming this tyranitar isn't working with the Dusk, he's from the Rock District. And if that's the case, there's no doubt in my mind he'll want all of us dead. To assume he isn't a problem is-"

As Tenebri brought down a foot onto the table's surface, the sylveon grimaced, covering her face defensively with her ribbons.

"Are you forgetting your position in our council, Azazel?" Tenebri questioned the sylveon with a glare. "Let me remind you that your role is not to participate but to carry out instructions."

The sylveon's lip tinged with annoyance, though she did not speak. Her scowling gaze found itself fixated to a chair at her side.

Tenebri cleared his throat before continuing. "As I was saying, I sincerely doubt some dirt-licker knows what secrets those blueprints hold. Given the Thieve's Guild's reputation in the Center, he stole them for some power-mad idiot searching for information about The Center – maybe someone in the Dusk. And even if our worst fears are realized and these thieves know about the weapon, what does it matter? Do any of you honestly believe some band of thieves can fight their way past our army of Steel Enforcers?"

Plenty of gazes shifted about the room to one another as if looking for some disagreement, but Tenebri wasn't about to wait for someone to speak up. "Beyond that, how would anyone know what the weapon looks like? Only Dr. Giraldo and the seven of us have seen the prototypes, and no one here has seen the final product." He looked towards the sylveon through the corner of his eye, allowing his fangs to protrude menacingly from his lip. "We can also trust each other to have kept our mouths shut, correct?"

The sylveon felt her heart retreat towards the back of her chest, though she kept a calm expression fixated on the chair.

The magcargo's lava-like skin bubbled in irritation at Tenebri's boldness. "And you would risk this? You would have all of us risk months of preparation on nothing but your own hunch?"

"We have no reason to believe these thieves know anything about the weapon," Tenebri assured. "And there's no reason they'll look close enough at the blueprints to find it. So, why worry about problems that don't exist?"

The weavile said nothing more, stepping off from the table's edge. Retaking his seat, the weavile kicked his legs onto the table once more, allowing snow to slump sadly onto the surface.

"Tenebri does have a point," the aurorus acknowledged with a nod in his direction. "As long as Giraldo has stayed in his lab, no one should know about the weapon."

"We could post some more Steel Enforcers around the building just to be safe," the glalie suggested.

The salazzle slowly rubbed the bridge of her nose, tightly shutting her eyes in disbelief. "We specifically chose _that_ spot to be inconspicuous," she groaned as if it were obvious, being vague due to the present company – namely the sylveon.

"Why did you call me here?" the sylveon complained from her depressing slump. "Want me to lie to a couple more pokemon than usual?"

"I'd watch your tone if I were you, Pixie," the weavile warned, not bothering to look around the aurorus' neck to face the sylveon.

"We called you in to put some feelers out through the city," the magcargo said. "Regardless of whether the tyranitar is an immediate problem or not, someone knows something they are not supposed to. Find the tyranitar so we can learn who he works for."

The infernape leaned in closer towards Azazel the sylveon, aggressively breathing on her neck through the slits of his face. The sylveon slowly backed away from him, her pulse racing through her body as each breath seemed to threaten a blow.

"Deal with him before he becomes a problem," the infernape growled. "Or we'll get a new 'representative' for the Fairy District."

"He won't cause us any issues," the weavile assured from his spot.

The sylveon shut her eyes before nodding slowly, hoping that would be enough for the infernape. It seemed to do the trick, as the fiery monkey drew back into his own chair.

"Is there anything else we need to discuss?" Tenebri questioned. Yet there was no response. The only noise in the room was a soft breeze blowing more snow across the floor. Tenebri nodded in satisfaction before planting his feet onto the snow-covered ground. "In that case, I have other matters to attend to. Councilmen. Councilwomen."

* * *

Author's Notes:

Heyo guys and gals! Is the chapter shorter than normal? Yes. Yes, it is. But that's only because I've unofficially broken this one into two parts. The other stuff I wanted in this chapter took a lot more writing than I had originally anticipated to the point where it's as long as a normal chapter. So, between spreading the story out weirdly and fiddling with time-line issues or keeping a really long chapter in the story (AKA: busy work for the reader) here's a shorter chapter for you. I'll try and get the other part uploaded soon, but without a Beta, it's taking a bit to proof-read and work out the details.

Shout-out to AllKorean, Astimasum, BitterSweets7, Buronzu, Demasador, MegaCharizardX56, Nitroo, PatriotArmy, RyChu0130, Xalevz, hakimblue99, , megakaeloo57, noobl, DiegoAvmor, FlowerCutieBelle67olvie, Nix Seven, and menir (in no particular order) for following/favoriting the story! Happy to see the story gaining a small following!

If you haven't yet, Follow, Favorite, and Review the story! Even the smallest sentence of, "I like Charlie" means my work hasn't gone unappreciated. It also keeps me motivated, meaning I release chapters more consistently!

Anyways, thanks for reading, guys! Hope you guys liked the short dive into the Ice District! I'll see you in the next chapter!


	5. Chapter V: Arianna

**Begonias**

A Pokemon Fanfiction

Chapter V

Arianna

* * *

Dear reader,

Today on the fifteenth day of Arceum, another riot has broken out amongst residents of the Center. As you may know, pokemon of the Center have been complaining for months about the laws associated with the transport of corpses into the Ghost District to be disposed of, calling them, "Irreverent" and "disrespectful to families".

"Why'd they have to take my brother?" one of the angry rioters jeered at our reporter. "It's bad enough he had to die! Why does the government insist he be buried in a district I'm not even a member of?!"

The Council of Seven have issued a statement on the matter which reads, "Citizens of the Center, we ask of you to remain calm. We have heard your complaints, and our hearts reach out to the ones who have lost family members. Even so, we ask that you refrain from participating in these barbaric riots.

"It has been the Ghost District's job for decades to bury the dead to ensure the continued survival of our city. This has been our city's way for over fifty years, and it will continue to be so.

"Remember, we all have jobs we must complete for the betterment of our fair city. Ignore the misconducts of your brother and stay true to our city's values."

We at the Center Chronical ask that you remember these words from our illustrious council. And if you happen to know any of these rioters, please uphold your civic duties and report them to your friends in the Steel Enforcers.

This is Gabby Gabby of the Center Chronical, wishing you a safe day in the Center.

\- A Snippet from the Center Chronical

* * *

Nearly a month had passed since the thieves' encounter with Draggs. Each day became its own waiting game, everyone anticipating the worst for the group. Every night during diner, when the group huddled together around a table inside a darkened burrow like some form of dysfunctional family, Pat posed the same question: "How long until the Dusk sends a search party to kill us all?"

Admittedly, Harry was becoming skeptical if a search party would ever be sent looking. Randal could perk his ears throughout the whole day all he wanted, and Joy could patrol the passageways below for an eternity – Harry knew if the Dusk truly wanted them killed, they would all be just another group of faces lost to the burrows of the Rock District.

Regardless of whether Harry felt they were safe, Pat's tails ruffled together as she insisted, they remain hidden. "It's only a matter of time," she would say. "They'll find us eventually." Funny how that tune changed the day they ran out of food.

And when that day arrived, Harry packed his bag, donned his dusty, worn cloak, and headed above the safety of their burrow to gather supplies with the meowstic.

They made their way from the Rock District into the Center. The sky today held no clouds, allowing the sun to warm the cobblestone underfoot. The two walked across the streets with little worry. As according to plan, today happened to be a day of worship. Other than the few pokemon who couldn't be bothered with worship, most pokemon were in churches asking their gods for a better life. Harry couldn't say he believed in any of that, but it made the streets a lot less crowded, meaning less pokemon could identify him or Pat. And those who stayed out didn't mind the tyranitar or his group.

So, Harry and Pat walked the streets undisturbed, debating simple things with each other as if they were friends. They would always chat like this whenever they found themselves alone, and they would do so about the simplest topics some might find as boring as a block of wood. This time, their topic happened to be grass.

"Do you think the grass is blue outside?" Pat asked, tapping a claw to her chin as they walked across the cold cobblestone.

"Blue?" Harry asked with some confusion to his smile, imagining what would cause such a strange phenomenon. "Why wouldn't it be green like the grass in here?"

"You make it sound like a dumb idea," Pat said with a dignant shake of her tail. "But why should anything outside the walls be like anything like what's in, hmm?"

"Because that's how the world works," Harry stated.

"How should we know?" Pat questioned, stopping at a nearby stall filled with an assortment of herbs and berries. She took hold of a few leafy herbs and observed them closely as she continued with, "We've been stuck in this place all our lives, right? Who's to say the grass here is some off variation that's evolved."

"Evolved?" Harry snickered at the suggestion. "Plants don't evolve, Pat. They grow and die."

"We grow and die, too, right?" Pat asked. "But can we be certain that there's no blue grass outside?"

"If you go with that logic," Harry began with a smirk. "Who's to say there's anything outside the walls to begin with? Maybe it's exactly what the Council tells us – it's all blackened grounds and mindless pokemon."

Pat took her eyes from the plants to stare at Harry with the most unbelieving and disapproving raise to her brows Harry had ever seen, like his comment was barely noteworthy. Harry chuckled to himself.

"You know better than anyone that's a lie," Pat stated.

"Yeah – it's almost as wild a claim as blue grass, huh?" Harry said.

"It could exist!" Pat insisted, bagging a few of the herbs before placing three golden sticks as thin as a feather into the hand of a throw – the shopkeeper.

"All I'm saying," Harry said as they walked back into the middle of the street, "is that it's a little unbelievable."

"Well, as Ho-oh raises the sun, I'll prove to you that the outside has blue grass the moment we get out. Sound fair, Harry?"

Harry smirked to himself as they continued but found his step halted by a thud against his ankle. Harry stopped in place. His eyes scanned the space at his feet for whatever could have caused that thump only to find his smile erased with disbelief.

"Harry?" Pat asked, glancing around her shoulder to find the tyranitar stopped in the middle of the road. She tilted her head in confusion. There, rubbing their head as though it were sore, sat a little steenee girl with a purple band wrapped around her right arm.

Harry reached down towards the girl and grabbed her by the arm, lifting her upwards so he could get a better look at her. The steenee looked on at Harry with a sheepish grin, tucking her legs inwards nervously. Yet a single glance at her arms – towards the faded bruises – forced Harry's face into a look of shock.

"You again?" Harry asked with confusion.

"H-hi…" the steenee greeted, her voice sounding as small as she was. "Mind putting me down?"

"Who is that?" Pat questioned with an accusing glance towards Harry. "And how does she know you?"

"She's-" Harry started before his eyes set on the girl's right hand. There, planted in her grip, was the familiar, rusted blade of Harry's knife.

He quickly snatched up the knife from the girl and set it into his bag, hoping Pat wouldn't notice. Yet one gasp from the meowstic confirmed that Harry's movement hid nothing.

"Was that your knife?" Pat asked with a smile, placing a hand on her hip as she scoffed towards the tyranitar. "The knife you said you lost?"

"Pat," Harry said through a forced smile. "Please. That wasn't my knife. Clearly, that knife belonged to a fool."

"I know," Pat said as she walked up to the two. She looked towards the Steenee with a glee that made Harry groan. "Now, tell me, steenee girl. How did you manage to take a knife from this beast of a pokemon?"

As the steenee shrugged her shoulders, Harry held the girl away from Pat. He used his body as a barrier between the two. "Is this really the time?" he asked with reddened cheeks.

"Who is she?" Pat asked Harry, her eyes wandering around Harry towards the steenee girl.

"M-my name's Ravera, ma'am," the steenee said sheepishly. "Are… you friends with Mr. Green?"

"If you're talking about this bag of stones here," Pat said with a playful jab at the flustered tyranitar, "then yeah. You could say we're friends."

"Stop entertaining this," Harry told Pat. "The kid's leaving. Isn't that right, kid?"

Harry set the steenee on the floor and took Pat by the arm, pulling her away from the steenee before he suffered any more ridicule. Yet the steenee foiled his plans at moving on as she wrapped herself around his ankle. Harry sighed as he raised his foot upwards, eyeing the girl with irritation.

"Kid, this is getting ridiculous. Let go of my leg."

"I can't!" the girl shouted.

"Yes, you can. It's simple: just relax your muscles and I'll do the rest, alright?" Harry took hold of the girl and began pulling her from his leg. Yet with each pull, he felt the girl's grip getting tighter and tighter. Soon, it was as if a vice clamped itself to his leg.

"Why are you doing this?" Harry asked through gritted teeth, trying his best to pry the steenee from his leg.

"Because I have nowhere to go!" the steenee shouted. "And your home looks so cozy!"

"Hold on," Harry said with another pull. "You've seen where I live? Does that mean you've been following me?"

"I didn't know what to do!" the steenee said. "When you saved me from Mr. and Mrs. Leander, I didn't have anywhere to go!"

"Uh… Harry?" Pat said. As Harry took his eyes from the steenee, he looked towards Pat.

Her tails trailed along the floor behind her. Her face showed no signs of a smile. Her hands tightened into fists as her brows knitted with concern.

Then, it occurred to Harry they had a problem on their hands – or in this case, in his claws.

"You've seen where we live?" Harry asked again, this time his eyes filled with a seriousness that forced the girl into stillness.

"Hey Rivera," Pat said as she slowly walked towards the steenee. Maybe it was the intensity in Pat's voice, or maybe the assurance in her eyes that the steenee wouldn't be harmed. But for whatever reason, when Pat grasped the steenee from under her arms to lift her from Harry, she complied. "How about we get you something to eat and we'll talk?"

"Talk…?" the steenee asked cautiously. "Talk… about what…?"

"We need to know what you've seen, alright?"

The steenee's lip twitched with uncertainty. Clearly, she didn't trust Pat one bit. She took a step backwards as if getting ready to run, but Harry set a hand on her shoulder, keeping her firmly in place. Her eyes darted towards his face, but he showed no malice, nor did he intend to do her harm.

"We just want to talk," Harry assured the girl.

She stared at both the thieves for a couple of seconds. Harry wasn't sure if she planned to run for it or die on the spot. Based on her twitching lip, he wouldn't be surprised if she did either. Yet she merely rubbed her arm and said, "A-alright…"

Pat forced a smile as she stepped back and clapped her paws together, saying, "Alrighty, then! In that case, what do you want?"

* * *

The three pokemon made their way through the streets at a steady pace, Pat leading the group followed by the steenee while Harry brought up the rear. They eventually stepped to the side of the road where a stone bench stood – it sat beneath a shade, protecting whoever sat there from the sun.

Pat took a seat and patted the side of the bench, offering the steenee the remaining space. She did as Pat instructed, leaving Harry to stand in the sunny road for their chat.

"Here," Pat said, reaching into her bag and pulling out some of the herbs they previously purchased – these ones being of a viny variety, shining with a violet hue despite the shade.

Harry couldn't say the offer pleased him. Afterall, these herbs belonged to the thieves – not the steenee. They needed those herbs to stay hidden. Then again, Pat offering them to the steenee might serve as a peace offering. If she eats, she'll talk. Best to suck it up and learn what they need to.

"It's alright to eat," Pat said with a small shake of the herbs. "I promise it's safe. They're-"

"Oran Root?" the steenee asked with a wandering gaze.

Surprise tinted Pat's smile. "Yeah. How did you…?"

"It was Momma's favorite. If Master Isha let us keep a small strand, Momma used it to make our soup taste good."

As the steenee reached towards the herbs, her eyes set on Pat's free hand. With every inch she gained, the steenee's eyes remained unwavering. Even after she took the herbs from Pat, she never stopped looking at those blue paws – almost as if in anticipation.

"Alright," Pat began as the steenee took a bite into the herbs. "Let's start with what you know about us."

"What… do you wanna know?" the girl asked.

"Have you been following us?" Harry asked shortly, his arms interlaced to further drive the tyranitar's seriousness.

The steenee's eyes set onto the floor as if ashamed as she said, "Y-yes…"

"How long?" Harry asked."

"Don't mind him," Pat said with a glare towards the tyranitar. "He's just a hungry, old grouch."

Harry raised a brow at Pat. Here they were, talking to a steenee thief who, apparently, followed them home. What did she expect, coddling?

Yet at the same time, Harry caught the steenee sneak the smallest of smiles from Pat's comment. He also noticed her shoulders slouch as she leaned backwards onto her palms. That comment alone relaxed her.

"So… Rivera, right?" Pat asked, to which the steenee nodded a couple of times. "How long have you been following us?"

Rivera the steenee kicked her feet over the bench as a nervous smile played across her lips. "Uh… Since the bar…"

"The… bar?" Pat asked the tyranitar.

"So, you saw the fight with that big, black bird?" Harry asked the steenee, referring to their encounter with Draggs. The steenee nodded her head. Harry heaved a heavy sigh.

"Then you're the reason Harry didn't have his knife," Pat said with a nod. "How'd you manage to do that?"

"Same way I took your necklace," the steenee said, offering her hand out to Pat.

Pat gasped at the golden chains dangling from the steenee's hand. The meowstic's paws rushed to her neck in disbelief. Was she mistaken? Yet, sure enough, Rivera managed to snatch the golden chain hanging around Pat's neck from under her nose.

Not only did it surprise Pat, but Harry was just as shocked. He watched the steenee the entire time, right? Yet somehow, she managed to take Pat's necklace from under both of their noses. Was it during a blink? Perhaps it was when Harry looked towards Pat?

"H-how… did you-" Pat asked, stumbling on her own words as she took the necklace back from the steenee.

"I'm a good thief," Rivera the steenee proclaimed. "Momma said I'm the greatest there ever was."

"You sure are…" Pat said with a look towards Harry that said, "Do you see this girl?"

"Back to the point at hand," Harry said with a firm voice. "You took my knife and have been following me for a month. Does that mean you know exactly where we live?"

The steenee's calmed posture dropped at the question. "I… guess…" Rivera said with a shrug of her shoulders.

"What do you mean by that, sweetie?" Pat asked.

"I mean… I saw you guys enter those holes in the ground… is that where you live?"

Neither thief answered the girl. Instead, their eyes met and they both confirmed they understood the situation before them. Their shared looks of concern told each thief their friend owned the same thoughts.

Pat passed another Oran Root towards the steenee and said, "Sit here for a second." She stood and walked towards Harry, standing on her toes to whisper audibly.

"She knows where we live…" Harry grumbled.

"Did you think she wouldn't? I mean, she's admitted to stalking you, right? She'll have seen the burrow we live in."

Harry sighed once more. This was a travesty. If anything could kill a day, someone finding your secret lair did.

"What are we going to do with her?" Pat asked. "We can't let her go. She'll tell someone about us eventually. She's just a kid after all."

"We could kill her," Harry suggested.

Pat planted her fist into his chest hard enough to move the tyranitar's rock-hard body backwards. She then grimaced hard enough to hear as she clutched her fist. She stopped swearing underneath her breath long enough to hiss, "We are NOT killing a child!"

"I'm joking, Pat," Harry said half-heartedly. Admittedly, he did so more to keep Pat off his back then to tell the truth. "Then again... what's the alternative? Letting her join?"

Harry made himself laugh merely suggesting the possibility. How low would they have to be to let a little girl join a group of thieves? Yet as his chuckle reverberated across the streets, Pat didn't even snicker. It took the tyranitar a second to realize it.

Having regained his composure, Harry squinted in confusion. "No," he said aloud, not even bothering to hide his disapproval.

"Put it to a group vote," Pat urged. "Clearly majority rules would be the verdict on adding a member – just like it's always been."

"She's, like, ten!"

"Eleven," the steenee interjected.

Harry silenced the steenee with a point of his index. "We're talking, alright? Or did you want me to take back that Oran Root?" Rivera the steenee pulled her herb closer as she took another juicy bite. "That's what I thought."

"Harry, listen to me-" Pat urged.

"No," Harry insisted. "We're not some kind of home for runaway slaves, alright? And we're most certainly not a nursery!"

"I don't expect us to be," Pat assured. "We can use her in the group, Harry, and you know it! I mean, she stole my necklace while both of us were watching, and we didn't see a thing! We can use that!"

"While yes, we can technically use her skills, I don't see any long-term need! Most of our missions are smash-and-grab, anyways!"

"She seems like a good thief!" Pat continued to protest.

"She's a child! She'd be dead long before we get any actual use out of her!"

Pat made to say something else – or at least it seemed that way by the way she raised her paw as if preparing to reprimand the tyranitar, yet she hesitated. Her eyes drifted across the features in Harry's face as if in an intense search. It sent Harry's heart into a panic. What did she see in him? Did she notice his fear?

A sigh forced its way through Pat's teeth while she stepped away. "We put it to a vote," she said. "You can't debate me on this one."

"Why are you fighting to keep that girl?" Harry questioned. "It's not like you or the group gains anything by keeping her around, so why?"

He asked that, but he already knew the answer. As sassy as Pat acted, she owned demons of her past. She wasn't unlike the steenee girl before them at one point – abandoned by her family and seen by most as someone else's problem.

As a child, Pat owned all the good perks in life – a warm bed, toys to play with, friends at her school in the Psychic District – she even had younger siblings hanging from her arms. Yet the one thing she had that no one else did was a dream.

Some mornings, Pat talked about her old life like a sad memory. She told the group how, as a kid, there were tall towers across the entirety of the Psychic District, and Pat use to climb each and every one with the hopes that this tower – this tall structure which adults said shot up above everything, even the wall itself – could be the thing that gave Pat a glimpse at the outside world. Her dream was to explore, not unlike most children. Though there was only so much to see inside the walls of the city. So, she decided to escape the city and see what she describes even to this day as, "the unseen". But not everyone in Pat's family shared her dreams.

You see, in the Psychic District, they weren't above treating children cruelly for dreaming about the outside world. Families torn in two could tell you why it happened – dreaming about the outside is a crime. It doesn't take much to die in the city. Maybe that's why Pat's father did it – to protect the rest of the family from a girl too prideful to change her mind about the outside world – too stubborn to change her dream. With her siblings repeating everything Pat said, they would be killed as well; or maybe they'd be taken from their parents to be taught how good children should act. Whatever the terrifying thought was, it made Pat's father see his own child like a bruise on an apple. If it weren't dealt with, it could infect the whole. So, he removed the bruise entirely.

At a youthful age, rejected by her family and thrown into harsh reality, Pat became alone and without anyone to call her brother. Because of her dreams of adventure, Pat became stuck in a battle for survival. And that's how she lived until she met up with Randal and Joy.

So, Harry already knew her interest in this child didn't stem from wanting a new member in their group. That was just another fantasy Pat invented – a thin one at that. No, this steenee reminded the meowstic of herself. That's why she wanted a vote. But…

Harry looked down at the steenee. The girl sat there with patience, kicking her feet absentmindedly while glancing down the streets nervously. Those bruises had begun to fade, but she looked mangy and unkempt. The massive leaves she adorned seemed heavy to the girl. She looked to be doing poorly under these conditions. Not that Harry cared.

Harry's eyes rolled around in his skull as he pursed his lips. "If she can take my knife from me without me noticing," he said just loud enough for the steenee to hear, "we'll put it to a vote."

With that statement, the steenee's head perked up, her eyes becoming as bright as the sun as she jumped from the bench and tackled the tyranitar in a hug. "Thank you!" she cried with immense joy into his leg. "Thank you so much!"

"H-hey, kid!" Harry said, reeling back from the sudden tackle. "You still haven't taken my-" Even as he said it, the steenee looked up at him with the biggest smile imaginable, holding the rusted blade in her right hand. Suffice to say, this did not please the tyranitar. "You already took it, didn't you?" he asked, unamused by this obvious fact.

"Then we might as well introduce you to the group, huh Rivera?" Pat said, yet she tapped a claw to her chin in thought. "Now, onto the question of your name…"

"You act like she's already in," Harry reproached.

The steenee looked up at Pat with a confused tilt of her head. "Besides… You already have my name," she said.

Pat laughed a little at the girl's reaction. "No, your thief name. See, 'Pat' isn't really my hatch-name: it's Dee. Pat's just the name I'm going by so no one else knows who I am. Understand?"

"Pat's… a fake name?" the girl asked. As she thought about it, her head continued to tilt further and further in confusion. "I still don't get it…"

"If Peacekeepers knew who we were it would cause trouble for us," Harry explained.

"That makes a bit more sense… So, does that mean I get a new name?"

"Sure does," Pat stated.

"Then I wanna be called… 'Arianna'."

"Pretty name, Arianna," Pat complimented, to which the steenee girl playfully flicked one of her leaves as if she already knew that to be fact.

"If that's finished," Harry began, "Let's get moving. We've still got some supplies to buy, and then there's voting on whether she gets to stay."

* * *

When their shopping concluded, the three pokemon made their way past the berry-stained memorial and into the Rock District. Taking their normal path, they found themselves descending into the orange-walled pit of crystals and forgotten burrows. There, standing below the catwalk, was a confused and very irritated noivern, Randal. He shouted something into the nearest burrow. That's when the granbull, Joy, joined him on the catwalk see the source of Randal's calling.

"You didn't spend all of our money on a slave, did you?" Joy asked Harry in a terse tone.

"Relax," Harry told the granbull. "I have our supplies in the bag."

"This is Arianna," Pat introduced with a smile.

"H-hi," the steenee greeted with another nervous smile, though she went pale as her eyes set on the noivern.

Randal took a few steps towards the steenee. His head snaked its way down to her level, looking over her with a careful gaze. The steenee merely stood there on the wooden catwalk, looking as stiff as an oar. And Randal seemed to take joy in this.

"If you didn't spend our money on this girl, how in the hell did you manage to get her? You didn't steal her, did you?"

"No, nothing like that," Harry sighed.

"I have a more important question," Joy snapped. Randal, noticing her eyes were as cold as ice, stepped away from the steenee to let Joy approach Harry. "Why is she here?"

"That's the thing," Harry explained. "Apparently, she's been following me for the last month. She's also been living in one of the nearby pits. I guess she got careless today and ran head-first into me."

"Come to think of it," Pat said with a tap to her chin. "Why was she following you in the first place?"

"H-Harry saved… my life," the girl explained in a whisper, still watching Randal with fear.

"That wouldn't happen to be on the same night you went drinking, right?" Joy accused. "The same night we went to see Draggs a month ago?"

Harry grimaced at the claim. Joy hit the nail on the head, as she normally did. And she didn't pull any punches either.

"Joy-" Harry started.

"I knew you did stupid things when drunk, but saving a slave girl from what I can only assume is their masters… That takes the cake."

"We have bigger concerns right now," Harry urged. "You guys need to vote on what to do with her."

"What's there to decide?" Joy questioned. "She knows where we live. If the council ever found our location, we'd be dead by morning. It's her life or ours."

The steenee finally broke free of her stiffness as she took a couple steps backwards and into Harry. "W-when did k-killing me become an o-option?" she asked in a panic.

"It's not!" Pat snapped at the granbull. "She's just a child! We're not killing her!"

"Then what would you propose we do?" Joy asked, crossing her arms together whilst glowering at Pat. "We can't let her live or she'll be caught by Steel Enforcers and sold to the highest bidder, and we all know the possibility of that being a government official is higher than not."

"She's stayed hidden at least a month, so I don't think anyone's looking for her. And she's an expert thief."

"Is she?" Joy questioned, looking to Harry for confirmation. He merely bit his tongue and nodded in confirmation. "And when you say thief, what kind do you mean?"

"She's the one who took Harry's knife."

"Three times!" the steenee child interjected.

"Then you want her to join our group," Joy finished.

"Why not?" Pat asked. "Me, you, and Randal – we all started this group as kids. We've been stealing from rich pokemon all our lives. And you said yourself we'd have been better off if we had a pickpocket to take keys from guards or snatch jewels! She could work!"

"And how did you feel about this?" Joy asked Harry.

"I think it's a bad idea to bring the kid in our group," Harry said, keeping his reasons to himself.

"I think it might be a good idea," Randal said with a smile. "Having a slave around has its perks."

Pat's jaw hung at the noivern's comment but shook it off as fast as a duck to water. "That's two-to-one," she said, leaving the final vote to Joy.

Harry honestly didn't know what the granbull would say. He had his hopes, but honestly, she could swing either way. Pat made a good point – Harry didn't join the group until later, but he did know about the other three members having been kids when this group began. "The Thieving Tykes" – as they were known – were known even to the Rock District. So, the possibility that this steenee could be a useful addition kept some ground. But still – a child had no place amongst thieves. Period.

Joy closed her eyes and shook her head, turning from the group with, "I don't care what happens. Just don't get in the way and we'll be fine, understand?"

Harry felt his brow tense in irritation, heaving a deep sigh. He knew that meant Joy was abstaining from the vote, leaving it two-to-one. The girl would stay.

"Then… does that mean…" the steenee began with wide eyes of joy.

"It's official!" Pat cheered, kneeling to the steenee's level with a smile. "Welcome to the group, Arianna." The meowstic held out her blue paw in an open shake to which Arianna returned with a hug. Pat was caught off-guard for merely a second before returning the gesture.

"Fine," Harry sighed. "Welcome to the group and what-not." He stepped around Pat and Arianna, trying to keep his emotions in check as he walked towards the entrance of his own burrow. Despite the calmed attitude he tried to keep up, he felt panic rising inside him He needed to leave and get some time alone, but not before saying one, final thing to the girl.

"You're part of this group, now. But that doesn't mean you can just do whatever you want, understand? You're expected to pull your weight and do what you're told. Understand?"

The steenee, Arianna, broke away from Pat and looked at Harry with a seriousness he'd only seen in adults – never in a child. To tell the truth, it surprised him.

"I won't cause problems, sir," the steenee assured him. Then, she bowed low enough that she could lick the floor.

Harry couldn't help but scowl at this act. With a final roll of his eyes, the tyranitar entered the darkened burrow, leaving the group behind.

* * *

If the tyranitar loved one thing about his burrow home, it was the silence. Each one separated by a thick layer of dirt and rock meant Harry could lie alone with his thoughts. Walking past the wooden furniture of the front room, beyond the stains of alcohol across the polished flooring, he lied onto a bed of hay and did just that. He didn't even bother taking off his cloak. He just needed to be alone with his thoughts.

Harry's rough hand drifted towards the bulge in his cloak – right above his heart. There, he reached into the internal pocket of his jacket, procuring a small gemstone from the bulge. The gemstone – an orange topaz with blotches of black tainting the edges as if infecting its colored hue – represented everything to Harry. That's why he always kept it close to his heart.

Harry held the gemstone up into the darkness of the burrow (he didn't need a light to see it as Rock-types had night vision due to them living in the darkest atmospheres) staring at it with an intensity in his gaze. He needed to remember what he was fighting for.

He needed to remember the good times and the bad. He needed to think of her face – how her thick hands smelled like saffron in the spring simply because she used it in everything. He needed to recall the ball Harry carved from a block of stone. He needed to remember how hard it's all been.

So, what if this girl reminded him of memories others would rather forget. So, what if he felt like trembling at the thought she would be in his life. Who was to say she would be in the first place? He had a son once. He didn't need a daughter to worry about. No, it didn't matter if this child was part of the group, now. She was Pat's responsibility. He saved the girl once before, and even that wasn't required of him. He was content leaving this to pat. He had to be. He-

Harry's eyes caught a glimpse of brightness in the dark. As he sat up in the bed, squinting across the room at a corner, he noticed something very peculiar. There, hung to the wall by a knife catching the glint of outside crystals shining light into his burrow, was a piece of parchment with a quality to it even Harry could see being feet away from it.

He stood from the bed, walking toward the parchment. Normally, the process of making paper made the sheet visibly rough. Yet as Harry touched a claw to the paper, it felt as smooth as polished quartz. And the handwriting contained in the paper looked pristine, the kind of writing you'd imagine belonged to a princess.

Harry's hand tense across the page. This letter didn't come from one of the thieves. In fact, he recognized the handwriting from articles posted in the Center's newspapers. Looking towards the bottom, Harry confirmed his suspicion. There, scrawled with big, curly letters in black ink, sat the printed signature of one Councilwoman Azazel of the Fairy District.

* * *

(Author's Notes)

Hey guys and gals!

It's Begonias! The story that I can't seem to sit down and write. Hopefully, my writing's better than my time-management.

Firstly, I'm going to make special chapters for the Peacekeepers of the story! You can find these by scrolling to the back of the chapter log and selecting it. There's more information below, but just know that, if you want chronological order, I'll be telling you which one to visit after the, "Author's Notes" section by something like this: (Go To Special Chapter X) With that in mind,

(Go to Special Chapter 1)

I wanted this story to be a splice of the perspectives of the Center's Peacekeepers, Lynn and Lepher, and the thieves. But doing it that way, it feels like it messes with the pacing of the thieves' story (which is the main group, if you didn't know). I've been trying to find places in the story to splice them together to make it flow nicely, but I've concluded that I have no clue where that will be. So, I've decided to make the officer's portions "Special Chapters" at the end of the fic. I'll tell you guys when the story meshes with an Officer Chapter if you wanted to read it and keep up with the times, but since they mess with the tempo of the story just throwing it into the center makes it off. So, I'm making them optional… in a way.

They contribute to the overall story as they are characters that affect the story eventually, but their contribution isn't so reliant to need chapters dedicated to them – it'd be a nicety. So, I'm making these chapters their own thing for those who want more. Enjoy that for all you can!

Shout-out to… no one. Turns out not posting consistently hurts how many people read your story. Regardless, I hope you guys who are reading enjoyed this chapter!

I'll post Special Chapter 1 in a couple of weeks to give me time to write the next chapter for the thieves.

Until then, like, comment, and subscribe!

I'll see you guys in the next chapter!


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